A Murder of Crows
by Knight Writer Thundercat
Summary: I wrote this about 20 years ago. I never released it. I found it again on an old desktop. I hope you enjoy it.


Ranma 1/2: A Murder of Crows

The chill wind sliced through the narrow, shadow-cast alley, its mournful wail echoing off the filth stained walls. Black clouds hung low and menacing in the night sky, bearing the promise of nature's wrath on the city of man.  
She walked through the cluttered alleyway, the wind biting into her exposed arms and face. She barely felt the numbing cold as her bare feet carried her on a weaving course through the darkness.  
What was this place? She felt as if she should know. The alley, the city, it seemed so maddeningly familiar, yet so strange and alien. The air was almost foul with the stench of car exhaust and garbage, filled also with the noise of people.  
The dim light of the street beyond beckoned to her, enveloping her as she stepped out. Dilapidated buildings, covered with multi-colored grafitti, greeted her eyes as the sounds of thumping music faded in and out. People moved around her, their clothes in either tattered rags or loose disregard. She looked down at her own body, covered in a ripped and torn jumpsuit in gunmetal grey, and wondered again what was going on.  
Is this Hell? she thought as she began her strange trek once more. Is this what Hell is like?  
[This is not Hell,] said a strange voice in her mind, [but you can see it from here.]  
"Who...?"  
[Come, child.] The voice in her head pulled at her, urging her to move her legs.  
"Wh... who...?" She couldn't remember.  
[You must hurry, Akane,] it insisted. [You must move.] Slowly, awkardly, Akane took a tentative step. [Good. Follow me.] She took another step, one bare foot padding on the sidewalk beneath it, then took another. Akane's legs gave out, toppling her to the hard ground. She struggled to rise again, legs pushing at the concrete in an effort to raise her up once more. The voice called again for her to hurry, that time was of the essence as she pulled herself upright once again. [Follow me, Akane, and you shall learn.] Akane gazed up and spotted a shape darker than the night sitting atop a power line. The shape took flight, soaring into another alleyway across the street. She followed the shape, knowing only that she had to.  
The world became filled with blinding light, a horrid scream blaring in her ears as Akane stood transfixed. The impact came seconds later. Akane found herself rolling over something hard and cold before coming to a rest on the pavement.  
"HOLY SHIT!" she heard a voice cry.  
"She alright?"  
"Stupid bitch walked out in front of me!"  
"Might be some kinda insurance scam."  
"Maybe we should call an amubulance or somethin'!"  
She rose from the cold street, her only thought to follow the black shape. She had to find it, if nothing else, she had to find the (Crow)  
strange thing that called her.  
"Hey, you okay?" Akane ignored the female voice, making her way to the alley.  
"Girl's gotta be made of steel," she heard another voice whisper in astonishment. Akane paid them no heed as the shadows swallowed her once again.

"Who are you?" Akane asked the shape, which sat atop a rusted fire escape that snaked up the side of a nearby wall.  
[My kind have no names,] came its reply.  
"Where am I? Why am I here?"  
[Remember...]  
"I... don't understand."  
[You will. Remember...]

The world vanished in a flash of crimson as a life once lived paraded through Akane's head. She could see Ranma lying on her back, clothes ripped and torn as a group of five leering men pawed at her exposed flesh.  
I don't want to see! she screamed into the dream that was not a dream. Please!  
[You must, Akane. Remember...] She could feel the hands on Ranma's body as if it

was her own as they groped and clawed at her breasts, her thighs, her... her...  
Akane felt the cold of the poison through Ranma's blood as it robbed the proud warrior of her strength, a foreign substance that rendered her helpless. The weakness in Ranma's bound arms and legs was almost sickening as she felt the hard object enter her with brutish force over and over, hammering Ranma into the ground. The sanguine taste of blood filled Akane's mouth as Ranma bit down on one of the men who tried to take the red-haired girl's lips. Akane felt the pain of the stout pipe slamming against Ranma's head as the bleeding man shouted obscenities that would have singed the ears of angels.  
NO MORE! PLEASE NO MORE!

But more still came. She felt the lump of dread that ate away at her sanity like a malignant tumor as she wasted away in the depths of endless despair. Ranma's body, horribly mutilated, dead blue eyes staring up at nothing, her face twisted in anguish beyond imagining, haunted her nightmares even as she sat awake.  
The endless torment, the walking death she endured for... she didn't know how long. She hardly ate, barely existed in that dank hell. Her spirit had died with Ranma, her body yet to catch up. Ranma was dead, what did it matter?  
Then that night, aimlessly walking the shadows of the night, the enraged yell from behind, the form lunging from the darkness, the glint of moonlight on a razor-keen blade, then the exquisite pain as the edge rended her in two. Laying there, life rapdly fleeing her, dim eyes falling on the Crow that perched atop the dojo's outer wall.

Weak light shone from the grime-clouded windows, struggling to pierce the darkness beyond. The brick walls were pocked and cracked from years of neglect, stains of old grafitti coating the surface.  
The two cars approached silently, engines whining softly in the night as the tires crunched on tiny chunks of debris and trash beneath. They rolled to a stop, engines dying as the occupants stepped out.

What a dump, Kazuo thought as he strode to the rusted metal door. The old neighborhood had really slipped over the years, with rogue elements taking up residence in

the ruined areas of Tokyo and other major Japanese cities. That fact disgusted Kazuo to no end, especially when he read of how the area used to be.  
However, if there was one good thing about places like this, it was that troubleshooters like himself didn't have to be so subtle when sent in to clean up what messes these little shits made. It was a shame that it happened so often.  
The other four took positions on each side of the door, weapons at the ready. Kazuo glanced at each in turn, no words necessary. Each knew his role, and needed no instruction. On his signal, the door burst inward and the raid began.  
The room was sparsely furnished; a few mats and a table occupied the filthy floor, most of them occupied by several lean and gangly people. They rose in shock and terror, knowing full well what Kazuo and his men were and why they were there.  
Genki, Tetsuo, Yamato, and Yoshi opened fire without prompting, the teflon-coated rounds ripping through the pale and somewhat emaciated flesh of the amateur jack dealers. The reports of the silenced weapons were little more than rapid fire coughs as the acrid stench of cordite soon filled the air, overpowering the stench of unwashed bodies.  
It was over in seconds. Blood ran in a river across the dirt-caked floor, gunsmoke hanging heavy in the air. As the others took the body count and searched for stragglers, Kazuo strode purposefully toward the ramshackle table that rested in the corner.  
Plastic bags lined the pitted and burned surface of the particle board, each stuffed with long, kinked cables with a metallic jack at each end. Kazuo stared down at the labels, reading the kanji printed on them.  
Snuff jacks. It was bad enough that these worthless sacks of monkey shit peddled their cheap rip-offs in the oyabun's territory, but to push crap like this was unforgiveable. Much as things had changed, the Yakuza still didn't think highly of snuff pushers.  
The four returned, each showing that no others had been found. Even if one had managed to get away, it was of no importance. He would tell others about what had happened, and they would think twice before pulling any stunts like this.  
With the night's work done, the five returned to their cars and vanished into the night.

The pain washed over Akane again and again in a merciless tide of agony and torment as she lay shivering on the ground. Her legs were curled up to her chest, arms wrapped around her torso as the flood of tears soaked her face and the asphalt. Ranma had been murdered, and she had been powerless to stop it. Instead of seeking vengeance, she had done nothing. The knowledge sent her into a new bout of crying and screaming.

The Crow watched silently as the grief and madness welled up inside Akane, bursting out in a torrent of violence. It looked on as she rose to her feet, screaming in unbearable torment as her fists slammed against the brick wall again and again. The mortar cracked and splintered with each blow, shards of brick spiralling out into space.  
With a tortured wail, Akane's foot slammed into a dumpster, sending it hurtling through the darkened alleyway as if it were a toy ball. The dumpster overturned in the shadows, the cacophony of noise ricocheting off the walls.  
This part was the most necessary, the most important. Akane had to see, to relive the events that led to this place. She had to experience the pain anew, to be driven mad by it. That madness, that pain, would be her lunatic edge. It would allow her to survive the journey on which she had now embarked.

Akane fell to her knees, shuddering from a thousand different emotions lacerating her rain. She had stopped screaming, but couldn't recall when. The haze of agony and rage hung over her like a cloud of lightning, sending tendrils of murderous need through her.  
[Take the pain,] the voice whispered, slicing through the fog, [use it to make you strong again. The pain is your power.]  
"Who are you?!"  
[I have told you, my kind have no names.]  
Akane uncurled herself, the pain still wracking her very soul as she sat upright. The pain reached into her, grasping her rage as she felt a new power surge through her. "I was dead. I know I was dead. Then you came."  
[That's right. I have brought you here.]  
"Why couldn't you let me rest?!"  
[Because you can't. The pain won't let you.]  
"So, you just let me suffer in this world instead of the next? Is that it?"  
[No, Akane. I brought you here to end your torment, to settle the score, as you mortals put it.]  
Akane slowly rose to her feet, pain still throbbing through the very fiber of her being. She awkwardly made her way over to a nearby trashbin, heeling over as she felt her gorge rise.  
She spotted a faint sparkle in the pile of refuse, a dim gleam in the dark. Cautiously, Akane reached in to pull out a jagged section of mirror from beneath a sodden piece of paper.  
Akane stared at her reflection, the matted mass of dull hair, her tear streaked cheeks, gleaming eyes... She brought the glass down, opening her shirt as she held the shard to the grim light. The scar was twisted and hideous, running the length of her from her left shoulder to the right of her pelvis.  
A flash of memory resurfaced, and she felt the cold of the steel ignite the fires of agony in her nerves as it cleaved her with lethal efficiency.  
[That's it. Let it grow, let it fuel you.]  
"How long has it been?"  
[By your mortal reckoning, twenty years have passed.]  
"No..." Akane dropped the piece of mirror, whirling about to face the crow. "You're wrong! It can't be!"  
[It is.]  
"But... why?! Why so long?"  
[You are fortunate, Akane. Many souls have waited far longer for their chance. Some wait for eternity.]  
"This... this is a different world! Another time!"  
[Time presents no obstacle. It is not too late.]  
"Stop giving me riddles!" The crow fell silent, regarding her with its beady gaze for a moment before finally speaking again.  
[Hurry. One is near.]  
"What?"  
[Just follow me.]

"Man, why do you waste your time here?" Yamato asked as he brought the car to a stop alongside the curb. People milled about under the almost vulgar neon lights that hung above the sidewalk, pedestrians and hawkers peddling all sorts of wares. The area was in many ways no better than the slum district they had just left, yet the illicit activities were under the oyabun's control.  
"We all have our pleasures, Yamato," Genki replied as he climbed out of the sedan.  
"Like professional whores?"  
"Yamato, please! I prefer the term overly friendly hostesses."  
"Semantic crap. Just don't be late tomorrow." With that, Yamato dropped the car into gear and drove off into the night.

Akane peered from the shadows as the man strode across the street. His severely cut business suit showed off a powerful body beneath it as he moved with almost fluid grace. Black hair framed a ruggedly handsome face, lips set in an almost rogueish grin. Why did he seem so...  
Akane felt a bolt of white-hot pain rip through her gut as more memories returned. She saw the face of one of those men, grunting as he thrust into Ranma again and again, screaming vulgarities at her. The scene was gone in a flash, replaced by the world, and Akane knew.  
[Do you know him, now?]  
"Yes," Akane growled, "I know him..."

Aunt Susie Cho's Tearoom was filled with patrons, as it was every night. The thin haze of smoke hung in the almost stuffy air, the smell permeating every surface. Dim lights shone through the mist, lending the place a feel of coziness tinged with an undercurrent of sleaze. It was little more than a thinly disguised brothel.  
It was also Genki's favorite hangout. He breathed in the atmosphere as he stepped over to an unoccupied booth, the murmur of conversation sprinkled with coquettish laughter providing a subliminal hum. He slipped into the comfortable leather and waited for his favorite.  
Within minutes, Miyu came. A simple blue kimono was draped around the shapely figure he knew lay beneath, raven's wing hair pulled up in a bun atop her head. She kept her eyes downcast as she asked what he would like.  
"Well, you can have a seat, for starters," he replied, indicating the other side. Miyu eased gracefully into the booth, a shy smile on her rosy lips.

He began with praising her beauty, which ellicited a blush from his female companion. From there, the small talk and flattery continued as Genki waited for the proper moment. He knew he could have easily pulled out his wallet from the start, a tactic which many male and female patrons employed, but Genki preferred to warm his companion to him first. It made the night so much sweeter. He had discovered from that red-haired girl so long ago how distasteful rape could be. Poor Yoshi had learned the hard way.  
"Gen-chan," Miyu began, "is there anything... else... I can do for you?"  
Ah, now it was time. Genki reached into his pocket, sliding the yen across the table to her. Miyu accepted it respectfully, giving a slight bow of her head and shoulders.  
"Please allow me to freshen up for you first, Gen-chan." With that, she slid out of the booth. Genki watched as she glided across the floor, stopping at the table occupied by an old woman for a few moments. He watched Miyu's lips as she spoke, her hand placing the bill on the table. The nightly fee had been paid, of which Miyu would probably see nothing. The women here depended on their meager salaries and whatever tips their customers left behind.  
Genki waited, watching the other patrons head upstairs with their own companions for the night before rising himself. As he passed the table near the stairs, the old woman gave him a slight smile. She knew him, and knew he never mistreated her girls. If only she knew why.

The room was black as pitch when Genki walked in, which was highly unusual. Miyu never left her lights off when expecting him, never. Something was wrong, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what.  
Genki felt a force snatch him forward, sending him flying through the air just as the door slammed shut behind. Instinctively, he tucked into a roll before hitting the floor, rolling to his knees and facing in the direction of the exit. Blood rushed through his veins as every nerve went on edge. Whoever this was would soon end up very sorry.  
"Murderer." The voice came from out of the shadows as Genki pinpointed its source. He readied a throwing blade, not wanting to use a gun in such a populated place as he stalled for a little time.  
"What?"  
"You raped her. You murdered her!" The hurt, the rage in those words nearly chilled him to the bone. The speaker was a woman, and not Miyu. Who had set this up? And why was that voice so familiar?  
"What are you talking about?" His eyes were finally adusting. Just a few seconds more...  
"You raped and murdered the one I loved!"  
"Bitch, I never raped anyone." Was she high? Genki finally spotted her, a vague form in a patch of shadow. With a feral grin, he let fly his knife. The blade whistled as it sliced the air, heading right for its target. The sound he heard, however, was all wrong.  
The lights flared to life, blinding Genki as his eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden influx of illumination. Squinting, he fought against the needles stabbing into his eyes as shapes became gradually more distinct.  
Genki finally focused on the woman by the door. Her hair hung limp and dingy around a pale and drawn face, but her eyes... Those eyes held anger, grief, and death. In her left hand, the blade of the small knife was trapped between the first two fingers.  
"Who in the hell are you?" he asked, becoming genuinely afraid. He stared at her face for a moment, his question answering itself. No, no this wasn't possible! "Death." Gensao scarcely saw her hand move, merely a blur and a flash of silver before pain lanced through his stomach. He felt his blood stream hotly down the front of his pants, his agonized scream cut off by her hand closing again around his throat.  
"Gah... ggg..." Oh please, he pleaded to any diety who would listen, don't let it be her! "And it comes to be," her hissing voice said, "that the soothing light at the end of your tunnel is just a freight train coming your way. You said that to her before you raped her."  
The knife twisted in his gut, the searing agony arcing up his throat like a crimson shaft of lightning, only to be cut off by her hand. As his blood flowed down his clothes and onto the floor, the pain from the wound became distant. The world grew dim and grey, sounds coming through murky waters as his life slipped through his stomach. So, this was it. What went around truly did come around.  
"Aggg...aaa... ... ...eeee" Akane...

Akane studied her handiwork, the nude and rapidly cooling body lying spreadeagle on the soft bed. She felt no better, the pain still gnawing away at her mind as she moved over to the pool of congealing blood on the floor. Bending down, she dipped a finger into the red liquid, smearing it on the tip before moving over to a nearby wall. She didn't know why she was doing this, leaving such a calling card on the wall, but she did not care. This pile of wasted flesh had been only one, four more remained.  
[Hurry, Akane,] the voice said insistently. [You must leave.] She heard the footsteps approaching from outside the door, and jogged over to the window. Casting one final glance at her mark, she ripped open the small window and fled into the now waning night.

Ryo Suzaku sat in the glory of the golden sun, drinking in the warmth of the light as his hand worked lazily on the sketchpad. Layers of graphite coated the coarse paper as his hand moved the pencil back and forth in a seemingly random pattern, coming together to form the image he was attempting to bring to light.  
"Hey, Ryo!" shouted a boisterous voice from behind. Ryo craned his neck to the source, finding Kyle striding toward him. The two had met Ryo's freshman year at Taiyo High School, and had formed a friendship as the year had rolled past.  
"Hey, Kyle," Ryo said halfheartedly, closing the sketchbook as he rose to meet his friend. Kyle leapt down from the raised steps leading up to the side entrance, landing in a crouch beside him.  
"What's the drawing this time?" Kyle asked with a salacious wink.  
"Just doodles, nothing special."  
"Aw, c'mon, man. You can show me!"  
"Nah..." The sketchpad vanished from Ryo's hands in a blur of grey as Kyle easily slipped it out of his grasp. "Hey! Give that back!"  
"Just a peek, man."  
"Kyle..." Despite his growled warning, Kyle opened the sketchpad to Ryo's latest work.  
"Hey, who's the looker?" Kyle asked with a low and appreciative whistle.  
"She's nobody!"  
"Man, are you holding out on me?"  
"Kyle!"  
"Who is she, Ryo?" Ryo shot his friend a withering glare, knowing that trying to avoid his questions would do no good. Sometimes Kyle could be a real bloodhound.  
"She's a girl I dream about sometimes." All the time is more like it, he silently added.  
"Hey, I'd dream about someone this cute."  
"NOT LIKE THAT, PERVERT!"  
"Easy, guy!" Kyle exclaimed, hands raised in a placating gesture. Ryo seized the moment, snatching the sketchpad back from his friend. "Just making a joke."  
"Uh-huh." Ryo looked down at the sketch again, a feeling he couldn't quite grasp fleeting through him.  
"Anyway, this dream girl got a name?"  
"Akane," Ryo said, tearing his eyes away from the picture's gaze.  
"Akane, huh? Seems to fit her." Ryo remained silent, closing the sketchbook as the bell rang, signalling the end of lunch.  
"SO!" Kyle exclaimed as the two began the walk back inside, "got a date in mind for the dance?"  
"Not really."  
"You gotta be kidding. Tell me you're kidding."  
"I'm kidding," Ryo replied in a deadpan voice.  
"No you're not! Ryo, man, what's wrong with you?"  
"Hm?"  
"Dude, you could have your pick from any girl in the whole school! Just ask one!" Ryo didn't answer as the transparent door slid open, granting the two access into the immaculately neat hallway.  
Ryo knew that he had a few girls vying for his affections. Many of them commented on how he looked. His body was lean and athletic, smooth muscles accented by his black school uniform. His mop of brown hair was kept short and bushy on top with a pony tail hanging to his back, bangs hanging over sea blue eyes set in a face straight from a shonen holo-manga. "I'm really not interested," Ryo said as they started up the stairs to the second floor.  
"Man, I KNOW you're not..."  
"Definitely not. It's just that... I don't know... most of the girls here just aren't what I'm looking for, y'know?"  
"And that drawing is?"  
"No, you know better than that." Ryo had to admit, however, that there was indeed something about that picture, and the dreams that inspired it and the others. He felt as if he should know Akane from somewhere, but couldn't place why. Nor did he know how he knew her name so easily.  
"Case in point, Keiyo."  
"Kyle, don't remind me about that." The warning bell blared its strident call into the corridor as the two neared their respective rooms. Parting with the typical farewells, the two separated for the remainder of the day.

====================================== Part Two ======================================

"Looks like we got a doozy here, chief," Akira said to the man across the desk. Detective Soichiro Otonashi (Homicide) leaned back in his swivelling chair, re-reading the two casefiles brought to his attention that morning.  
"Yep," he said noncomittally. "Any thoughts?" Akira had a good head on his shoulders, and a knack for spotting the odd details. Not bad for a kid on the force for a couple of years.  
"About the hit on those jackheads? Typical yak hit. No way we'll ever find the triggermen." The Yakuza had gotten much less subtle over the years, especially when dealing with jackheads who peddled their stuff in a narawabi without giving a cut to the oyabun. They only maintianed their facade of civility on the surface.  
"How about the tearoom?" That was the real mystery. While the hit in the slums was commonplace in this day and age, such a brutal and savage murder as this was nearly unheard of.  
"Some right weird shit," Akira replied. "They found they guy's genitals stuffed in his mouth. At least he bled to death first."  
Soichiro nodded in reply, recalling the wholly unnecessary autopsy report. How the man had died had been pretty obvious.  
"Genki Fukamachi."  
"Yakuza troubleshooter," Akira said. "Frequented Aunt Susie Cho's a lot. His favorite hostess was a girl named Miyu. They found her tied up in the closet with a few of her own belts. Took a nasty knock on the head, but she'll recover."  
"Whoever this was killed Genki, spared the prostitute, and painted some bird shape on the wall with the yak's own blood," Soichiro muttered, trying to piece the grisly puzzle together. "What's the connection? Why not kill the hooker?"  
"Why risk leaving a witness?" Akira asked. "You got me, but it's obvious that she wasn't a big deal to this guy."  
"What about the bird?"  
"I got Kaneda down in Special Investigations looking into it," Akira answered. "He's pretty good with this occult stuff. If it means anything, he'll dredge it up."  
"Forensics found some good prints on the knife, and the light switch," Soichiro said. "So far, nothing on file. Akira, I want you to look in all the databases for a match."  
"Yes, sir."  
"Maybe one of the other departments has something. In the meantime, let's just hope this isn't some damn serial. That's the last thing we need." Soichiro shuddered in memory of the last serial killer he had to hunt down, a whackjob by the name of Raizo Yamata, who had a penchant for the female population of Furinkan High. The media had dubbed him the Nerima Slasher, and the name was more than apt. He had been a tough one, and Soichiro had only caught him by sheer dumb luck and possibly some help from above. He greatly hoped this latest case wouldn't end up to be like the other.

She stood in front of the full-length mirror, studying her reflection in the polished glass. Coal black hair trailed down her back in a tight braid, not so much as a single hair straying from the tail. Her pale flesh was taut and firm, pert breasts curving gracefully from her chest. A delicate face stared back at her from the mirror, eyes the color of deep violet locking on her own.  
Kodachi Kuno truly admired her figure, taking great pains to keep it shapely and firm. She sometimes spent hours at a time staring at her nude reflection in the mirror, searching for any signs of imperfection. After all, a woman as regal as herself could not afford to be anything less than the best. She turned away from the mirror, sated for the time being. The dreams had been taking their toll lately, leaving her shaking in cold sweats in the dead of night. She could never fully recall them, but she felt that she was on the verge of something terrifying, yet hauntingly familiar. Oh, well, it was of no consequence. The Black Rose was not so easily shaken by things that went bump in the night.  
Kodachi pushed the dreams out of her mind, focusing instead on the task at hand. She had been keeping her pet waiting for too long. Still nude, she strode across the ornate bedchamber to the west wall. She stopped just short of the wall, a milky white arm reaching out to touch a certain spot on the mahogany-colored surface. A section of the wall rose silently into the ceiling, granting access to the dimly lit chamber beyond.

Shadows filled the cramped interior, lending the illusion of space where there were only meter-thick walls. Kodachi eyed her pet critically as she circled, bare feet slapping softly against the cool floor.  
Her pet's chestnut hair hung limp and lifeless in what had once been a stylish pageboy cut. Welts and bruises discolored the skin, strips of red mingling with patches of yellowish-black. The arms were suspended above the head, feet barely able to touch the floor.  
Kodachi stopped before her pet, picking up the leather crop that rested at her feet. The pet's eyes were shut, breath coming slightly irregular through the nose. The past two weeks had been rough on her pet, and it was definitely showing. Perhaps it was time to find a new one.  
She placed the crop under her pet's chin, the deep brown eyes snapping open instantly. No sound came from behind the red ball wedged between her pet's teeth, eyes showing more resignation than fear. A flash of white-hot rage burst within Kodachi's head as the crop slapped against the bound woman's breasts. How DARE this miserable creature fail to show the proper respect to the Black Rose?!  
The heat of the moment subsided as quickly as it came, leaving her shaking in its wake. As the rush of hate-fueled adrenaline faded from her blood, she eyed her pet with a gaze that could slice diamond. The pain in the other woman's eyes was far dimmer than it should have been, the once delicious defiance gone from those almond windows to the soul. Yes, this one was broken. Pity. Kodachi had so much wanted to make this one last.  
"Very well, Nabiki Tendo," she hissed, "if that's the way it must be. I'm sure those other harridans will keep you company in hell."

Akane watched as the sun dropped below the horizon, the light of day fading with it. The shadows on the roof lengthened with the advent of night, darkness spreading across the city in a black tide. The boots fit snugly, which was more than she would have expected from something she found in a dumpster. While they did little to keep her feet dry and warm, it was better than constantly running around barefoot.  
The Crow flew past Akane's head, her hair billowing slightly in its wake as it glided into the maze of rooftops. Without a moment's hesitation, she ran off in pursuit of the obsidian bird.  
Akane made the first jump with ease, sailing across the narrow space between the two buildings with balletic grace. She hit the next roof in a dead run, legs pistoning in an almost frantic rhythm as she chased the Crow through the tops of the city. As the chase continued, Akane found that she was not short of breath, scarcely even breathing hard as she charged into the night.  
Akane didn't need to see the Crow to know where it was. She could feel its presence like a line connecting her to the bird, pulling her along behind as it soared above the rooftops, guiding her to where she needed to be.  
She saw the enormous crevasse looming up ahead, a grim smile playing across her lips. Akane refused to slow, instead pushing more out of her legs as she charged the lip of the roof. Either she would make this jump, or she wouldn't. After all, it wasn't like the fall

would kill her again.  
For a brief moment, Akane felt weightless as she sailed over the street. The wind ripped at her hair, her clothes ruffling from the force of air rushing past. Then, gravity reclaimed its hold on her, dragging her down to the pavement below as momentum kept pulling her forward.  
She landed heavily on the roof, knees bending from the force. Akane stopped cold, looking around to get her bearings. She supposed she should have felt something from that leap, a sense of exhilaration or accomplishment. Instead, she felt nothing, just the constant agony of her heart.  
[Come, Akane, we are close.] Akane broke into another run, following the force that connected her to the Crow.

Fuckin' bitch.  
Yoshi glared down at his member as he stood over the toilet, the garish scar around its middle still glaring at him after all these years. He still remembered the pain of it, hot and sharp agony that had permeated the very core of his being. Torment that had stabbed at his soul when other women looked at it in horror or in curious revulsion.  
That fuckin' whore.  
Nights like this brought the memories to the surface, the humiliation as fresh as it was twenty years ago. Nights when his only true companion was the bottle of Uncle Taki's special cough medicine. Good old sake. It never left him, never looked at his cock and laughed, and always took the edge off the memory of that red-headed slut.  
That goddamn cunt!  
He shook it twice, placing it back in his pants before washing his hands at the fake porcelain sink. He gazed at his reflection in the tiny mirror, hair already going gray around the edges and jowls that had decided to hell with trim and fit, just like the rest of his body. A rosy glow colored his face from the multitudes of burst capillaries, bloodshot eyes staring dully back at his own. It would have been different, he kept telling himself, if she had just took it like she was supposed to and not tried to fight. But he had showed her. He took that short piece of pipe and drove the lesson right into her fuckin' skull. Some girls just didn't give good head. He chuckled ruefully at his own joke before stumbling back toward the bedroom where his one real companion awaited. He'd shown that little cocktease. He'd shown her good.  
A crisp breeze moaned through the open window of the darkened bedroom, the television providing the only source of light. The unnatural blue cathode rays cast strange shadows on the walls, made even more lively from the haze of booze that clouded Yoshi's mind.  
"Aww... shit!" he groaned as he plopped onto the bed, the springs screaming in protest. Damn, but his back was hurting tonight! He glared at the small screen of the television, some stupid fucking cooking show about a bunch of twerps trying to out-cook the resident fags. Wasn't that just too damn cute?  
"What the?" he started when he heard the strident caw from the window. His bleary eyes tracked the blob of moving darkness as it streaked through the opening, coming to a hastened stop atop the tv.  
"The fuck're you doin' here?" The bird cawed once as if in reply as it stepped from side to side, talons clicking softly on the plastic surface. Just what he needed, some lost little squab tyring to make a nest right on top of his fuckin' tv. Keeping his gaze firmly on the stray bird, he reached for the nearest object to hurl.  
"You don't want to do that."  
"SHIT!" he yelped, jerking towards the sound of the voice.  
She leaned against the wall next to the open window, a patch of shadow scarcely illuminated by the flickering blue glow of the tv. Despite the warm haze of sake that permeated his body, Yoshi felt a cold chill run through him with violent intensity.  
"Yoshi..." His name slithered from the patch of shadow, a barely audible hiss that carried with it a rage and madness he never knew could exist.  
"Fuckin' squab brought a friend," he snarled, shaking off the feeling of unease that tried to settle over him like a pall.  
"Get it right, moron," she said, moving away from the wall. "It's a crow." Yoshi's eyes followed her as she silently closed the distance to the opposite wall, a sillhouette that moved with fluid grace through the darkness.  
"Crow, squab, what's the difference?" Yoshi felt around for the gun, his drunken confidence returning in force. Whoever this whore was, she was gonna be sorry real fast.  
"Crows are messengers of death," she replied. "And this one has a message for you."  
"Yeah?"  
"Yes. I've wanted to talk to you for the longest time, Yoshi Sakamoto. Twenty long years."  
"Coulda left me a fuckin' message, ya little cunt."  
"I wanted to do this in person." The room was flooded with light, stabbing at Yoshi's eyes with a vengeance as his pupils fought to cope with the sudden influx of illumination.  
"FUCK!" He managed to open his eyes to small slits, a bright blur greeting his vision and sending throbbing pain throughout his skull. The pain and the glare lessened as the seconds ticked by, the jumble of brights and darks coalescing into a concrete image.  
She stood stock still next to the light switch, ragged boots glistening with drizzle from outside. Tattered pants and a shirt of dull cotton hung off her body, patches of pale flesh exposed through the torn holes in the legs and sides. Her hair was a tangled clump that jutted out in every possible direction at once like a roadkill raven over a face covered with dark smudges. But what drew his attention was her eyes, clouded with pain and death, ebony windows to a soul wracked with agony.  
"Sorry," she said in a tone that shouted that she was anything but, "I didn't have time to put on my face."  
"You got some guts, bustin' in here like this," Yoshi drawled, his hand closing around the piece of cold metal beneath the stained blanket. "You high?"  
"I want you to tell me a story, Yoshi." The girl - why was she so familiar? - started walking toward him, the hate dancing in her eyes belying the icy calm of her face.  
"Yeah, I'll tell you a fuckin' story." Just a second more... "Once upon a time, there was a guy who did this!" The .45 ACP was in his hand and trained on the filthy woman in a fraction of a second, a round screaming from the barrel with a flash of orange and the

stench of ignited cordite. Time slowed to a crawl as the bullet slammed dead center into her chest, the grey jumpsuit billowing from the impact with a fine mist of rose colored blood.  
"The end," he said as the girl stumbled backward, head down and arms held akimbo. "An' he lived happily ever after. Nice fuckin' story, huh?!"  
"I think it needs a re-write!" Her head rose up again, the baleful glare enough to sear the skin of any man unfortunte enough to be in its way, though Yoshi didn't take notice of it. His eyes fixed on the red stain where the bullet had hit, watching it shrink as the blood retreated back into the hole from whence it came. The edges of the coin-sized void drew together, closing completely with no sign of injury. "Ho-ly shit!" No, that didn't just happen, no fucking WAY! The terrible howl of tormented hate hammered into his eardrums as she took flight, landing before him with inhuman grace. The gun was sent clattering to the floor, his hand numb from an impact he didn't see just before he felt himself hoisted up by his own tee shirt.  
"I SAID," she began in a voice filled with madness, "I WANT YOU..." his back slammed into the plaster wall, cracking the fragile mix that coated the wall studs. "...TO TELL ME..." the coppery tang of blood filled his mouth as his head was rocked by a vicious blow. "A FUCKING STORY!"  
Gravity lost its hold on him as, stunned from the sudden and violent beating, he flew in a perfect ballistic arc through the plasterboard door to the bathroom he had left only minutes before.  
He hit the linoleum floor with a heavy thud, sharp pain lancing through his right arm as it slammed against the sink. Yoshi Sakamoto lay there on the cool surface, wailing in agony as blood continued to spill from between his lips.  
"Ah.. shit... oh, God, it fuckin' HURTS!"

Akane stood in the doorway to the bathroom, staring at the writhing form on the floor. His right arm was bent at an unnatural angle between the elbow and the wrist, a few tiny fragments of bone jutting out into the air. There was no mercy, no feelings save undying hatred for the waste of human flesh before her. The murderous rage sang in her blood, its dischordant melody casting her vision in a blood red tint.  
[Hurry, Akane,] the voice of the Crow said, [time is short.]  
Screw you, she thought, I want him to KNOW what pain is like.

The bathroom light flared to life as the sound of footsteps drew closer to his prone form. He paid it no heed, the lancing pain in his arm demanding his entire focus.  
"It hurts?" she mockingly asked. "It HURTS?! You... you don't know the MEANING of pain!"  
Yoshi forced himself to gaze at the furious banshee before him, the warm comfort of the sake long gone. Her face was twisted in anger he never imagined could exist, tinged with a pain he didn't ever want to know. In her hand was the half-empty bottle of sake from the nightstand, held fast in her white-knuckled grip.  
"You don't know what it's like to suffer real torment! To suffer in hell the way I have!" She jerked the bottle up to her lips, throwing her head back as she took a hard shot of rice wine. Icy terror sank its claws into his heart as she slammed the bottle against the rim of the sink, sending jagged fragments of colored glass into the basin.  
"What... the hell... do you WANT?!"  
She paused after another step toward him, seeming lost in thought. "Where were we? Oh, yes! You were going to tell me a story, weren't you?"  
"YES! Yes, I'll tell you a damn story!" Right then, he would have told her ANYTHING she wanted to hear.  
"Good boy," she sneered, the sight making Yoshi's chest clench even tighter. She slowly, almost languidly moved over him, straddling his heaving chest as she brought her face within centimeters of his. "Now, this story is about a young girl, who got into one tight spot too many. It was about twenty years ago, in a ward called Nerima."  
Yoshi's brain scrambled to make sense of what she was saying before things finally clicked. Twenty years ago... Nerima Ward... that bitch?  
"What're you babbling about?"  
"THINK! I'm sure you'll remember. She had red hair tied back in a pigtail."  
"Yeah, yeah, some red-head in the park, whatever!" Pain bloomed in the center of his face with the crunching of bone and cartilage. Blood and mucus began to run from his shattered nose, mingling with the dried fluid from his mouth.  
"Her name was RANMA!" she screamed, the sound hurting his ears. "You and your friends raped her! You murdered her, you motherfucker, you MURDERED HER!" Those intense eyes bored into his own, expanding to consume his entire universe with their raging fire. "But, she left an impression on you, didn't she?" The remains of the bottle appeared under his chin, the razor sharp edges digging into the flesh.  
"Whad da fudd do YOU dare?"  
"I was his fiancee." His? Oh, this bitch was tripping HARD! "LOOK! Look at me, Yoshi Sakamoto. Look long and hard..."

"Jeez, man, this is weird!"  
"Can it, Yamato."  
"Kazuo, how? We had to have left enough evidence on her for a blind guy to see!"  
"Shut UP, Yamato..."  
"We oughtta be getting cornholed in the nearest prison right now..."  
"WILL YOU SHUT THE HELL UP!"  
"Fuckin' dyke gets it, we get off scot-free, an' her carpet-lickin' bitch friend gets the axe from that nutbag. This is sweet!"  
"Yoshi, she almost bit your dick off, man!"  
"Fuck you, Tetsuo!"  
"Man, this is gonna come back to us. Someday, it's gonna come back and bite us right in the ass."  
"SHUT UP YAMATO!"

Oh, no. It... it can't be! IT CAN'T BE! Yoshi stared up at the girl he only now recognized, his body numb from the shock of realization. Her face hovered over his, every detail standing out in crystal clarity.  
You're dead! he wanted to scream. This is the real world, people don't come back! The words, however, failed to make it past his constricted windpipe.  
"I am dead," she whispered as if she had read his panicked thoughts. "And so are you."

The murderous need slowly ebbed from Akane as she washed the blood off her hands, leaving her drained and confused. The water ran a pale red down the small drain, carrying a few of the sake bottle's remains with it.  
[Hurry, Akane,] the Crow whispered insistently, [they are coming closer!]  
She glanced at her reflection in the small mirror, and for the briefest moment didn't recognize the face that looked back from within the symbol. She shook off the strange feeling, knowing that she had to leave before others came.  
The Crow waited impatiently on the windowsill, fidgeting from side to side in a nervous dance. Lightning turned the sky a glorious electric blue, fading to be replaced by the roar of heaven's immeasurable fury. Akane stepped past the remains of the shattered door, stopping next to a black bundle on the floor.  
[What are you doing?]  
"Just taking a souvennier," Akane replied as she donned the black coat. The leather coat fell past her knees, dangling by her feet as she cinched the middle closed. She didn't know why, but she felt better wearing it.

The door opened without resistance, Patrolman Tatsu Nakamo sweeping his service revolver across the entryway. Times like this made him glad the powers that be had relaxed their unbelievably stringent restrictions on gun use among the Koban. He still had to catalog every single round used, but street cops were now allowed to carry a firearm wherever they went. With the rise in voilent crime over the past decade, such was a real comfort indeed.  
What a dump, he thought as he surveyed the darkned mess of the foyer. Signs of a struggle, maybe? The call had stated that shots had been fired, a robbery that went sour?  
He slowly stalked toward the door leading to the bedroom, nervous tension tightening his gut. Where the hell was his backup? Light spilled out from beneath the door, the sound of an Iron Chef rerun coming muted through the particleboard. Tatsu took a deep breath, rearing his left leg back and slamming it into the door with all the force he could summon.  
"POLICE! FREEZE!" The door slammed against the wall, rebounding halfway as he surveyed the room. The covers of the bed were tangled and strewn, articles of clothing and emtpy bottles lining the floor. On the wall above the bed was a web of cracks in the plaster, roughly resembling a human shape. The single window stood open, drops of water soaking the floor from the growing storm outside.  
Cautiously, Tatsu made his way to the shattered door across the room, his revolver leading the way. The only sounds, save the television, were the pounding of his heart and the roar of air in his lungs. Something felt wrong, something that made his skin crawl. He didn't like this, not one bit.  
"Oh..." The words stopped in his throat when he beheld the corpse on the bathroom floor. He'd seen murder victims before, but... Oh, he was gonna throw up!  
Tatsu turned away from the sight, struggling to suppress his gorge while fighting desperately to banish the image from his mind. Whoever had done this... he couldnt have been human!  
"Adam Twelve, come in Dispatch."  
"Dispatch, go ahead, Adam Twelve."  
"Get a coroner up here, and Forensics. Cancel the ambulance."  
"Copy, Adam Twelve. What is your status?"  
"No suspects in the vicinity, Dispatch."  
"Copy."

"Adam Twelve out." Tatsu moved as quickly as he could through the apatment, trying not to run. He'd wait outside, he did not want to be in the same room as that body on the floor.

========================================================= Part Three =========================================================

Kodachi Kuno awoke with a start, a scream fighting like the devil to escape her throat. She felt cold, far colder than she had ever been before, icy sweat coating her pale flesh from head to toe.  
For a moment she forgot where she was, irrational fear rampaging in her mind. Slowly, almost reluctantly, reality began to set in as the nightmare faded into obscurity. She was in her bed, she was safe... right?  
Lastly, her iron resolve reasserted itself, shaking off the last fragments of dream and bringing reality into crystal focus. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was happening, something terrible beyond imagining.  
Enough! You are the Black Rose! You are NOT frightened by dreams like some child!  
She rose from the bed, the sheer black chemise whispering below her knees as her feet touched the cold floor. Dream or no, she was not going back to sleep tonight.  
"Lights." The room was filled with a soft halogen glow, banishing the shadows from her presence. Despite herself, she felt a sense of relief rush through her as the light destroyed the darkness.  
She strode over to her vanity, an antique mahogany chest of drawers carved with ornate designs on the legs and around the edges. A delicate carving of a vine circled the large oval mirror, forming a rose at the top.  
Her hair was mussed, whether from mere sleep or from tossing in throes of the nightmare she was uncertain. She gazed at her reflection for a few moments, a sadness rarely seen fleeting across her face. Kodachi never let anyone else see her in such a state, imperfect and vulnerable...

Lighting seared the night, and Kodachi saw the black raven soaring above her, caws of mourning and anger, sadness and hate filling the void of a place blacker than night, emptier than space.  
"I am coming..." The searing hiss came from everywhere at once, carrying with it a ring of familiarity. "I am coming for you..."  
"Who DARES taunt the Black Rose so!?"  
"I am coming..."

The real world returned with a violent flash, leaving Kodachi Kuno shuddering atop the squat stool. Dreams were often portents of coming events, holding meaning that one could never easily discern, but what did this mean? What was the voice that tormented her so in the dream?  
Kodachi squelched the dark thoughts that screamed from the abandoned corners of her mind, returning her focus to the here and now. She pressed a hidden switch on the mirror's frame, the perfect glass splitting down the center to retract into the wood.  
The shrine was a study in intricacy, every detail carved in painstaking perfection. It was, for lack of a better term, a work of art. In the center rested a small picture of a man with eyes the color of infinite blue, resting in a face she had dreamed of since that first night so long ago. They had taken him from her! They had conspired from the very beginning to keep them apart!  
"Ranma, my love," she whispered, lighting a stick of incense at the shrine's base, "I will find you. You and I shall be together for all eternity, and those who have taken you from me shall all pay with their lives. The Black Rose swears it."

Ryo lay awake in his bed, the sketchpad before him bearing the latest image of his creation. He stared at the drawing, cold fingers skittering up and down his spine as he beheld the infinte despair and anger in those eyes. Black lines extended up into her hairline, and down to her cheeks while two more stretching from her lips gave her the visage of a vengeful clown. Happiness and despair as one.  
He violently closed the book, his stomach fluttering for no reason he could divine. Something about these drawings disturbed him greatly. He felt as if he should know this girl from his dreams, that he should know the ache in his heart when he beheld her likeness on the charcoal grey paper.

"RANMA!"  
"AKANE!"  
"RANMA, HELP ME!"  
The void parted to reveal a place devoid of all things living, barren in every respect. He saw the man with the pigtail, the man she called Ranma, struggle to reach for her as the void wrapped around them both, forcing the two apart.  
"RRRAAANNNMMMAAAA!"

Ryo cradled his head in his hands, fighting back tears he shouldn't be shedding. Who WAS that girl? Why did she haunt his dreams? Who was Ranma?  
He reached beneath the bed, commanding the lights to activate as he pulled out one of his favorite holo-mangas. He would not get any more sleep tonight. He watched as the sepiatone image appeared above the small disc, the story beginning. He had to get this out of his head. It was just some stupid dream!  
Something deep inside, in a place where such knowledge is possible, knew that it was anything but.

"Can't this wait?" Soichiro Otonashi groused as he stepped into the bedroom. Being awakened at three in the damn morning did little for his already sour disposition, and having to drive all the way to the middle of downtown Tokyo made it even worse. "The poor bastard isn't going anywhere."  
The constant flashing of the forensics team's cameras didn't help. Each flare of strobe-like brilliance drove an iron spike into his skull, sending his already growing headache to new heights. "They've already removed the body," Akria said, moving up next to him.  
"Doesn't matter, I'll see it anyway."  
"Sir!" cried a man in a patrolman's uniform, "come in here!" Soichiro grudgingly obliged, stepping past a few hovering forensics types who hurried to get out of his way. Everyone knew how much Detective Otonashi hated being up at such an ungodly hour.

Dried blood caked the linoleum floor, the smell of death hanging in the chill air. Didn't these people think to close the damn window?! The patrolman pointed toward the mirror, his face pale and gaunt. He glanced at the nametag, Tatsu... something. First guy on the scene, Soichiro pitied the man. Being the first to find a man's body was never a pleasant experience.  
"Damn." Painted in congealed blood on the mirror was a crude bird, wings stretched as if in flight. He reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He knew it was a bad habit, but nothing worked better at calming him down.  
"Looks like our man has struck again," Akria said.  
"Yeah, no shit. Who was it?"  
"The victim? He's been identified as Yoshi Sakamoto, a Yakuza triggerman."  
Soichiro lit a cigarette, a puff of smoke rising to the ceiling from his first drag. Two dead Yakuza hitters in twenty-four hours, both with the same modus operandi. He looked at the numbers he had, and didn't like the way they were adding up.  
"This might be a vigilante," Akira offered, moving downwind. "It has all the earmarks of one."  
"Could be," he admitted. "Has forensics turned up anything on the prints from that whorehouse?" Might as well get on the clock, there wasn't a chance in hell of going back to sleep tonight.  
"Yes, sir. The prints belong to one Akane Tendo."  
The cigarette paused halfway to his mouth as his brain struggled to make sense of what his partner had said. Akane... Tendo? No, couldn't be. It was either a mistake, or someone with the same name. What were the odds? There had to be a rational explanation for it.  
"Sir? Are you alright?"  
"Yeah. You got the report?"  
"I can have it faxed here in a minute."  
"No, let's get to the office. We're about as useful as an ashtray on a motorcycle here." Besides, I hate places like this, he didn't add.

The rain had slowed to a constant drizzle by morning, soaking everything to the core with a blanket of damp. The sun failed to shine through the oppressive blanket of clouds, the curtain of water robbing everything of the detail that the muted light fought to bestow.  
Akane stood in what was left of the main hallway of the dojo, rain from outside running off Yoshi's coat in small rivulets. Her hair had been beaten down by the rain, clinging to her face and neck.  
The walls were cracked and stained, mildew tainting the bubbling surface of the wallpaper. Puddles of water gathered on the warped wood floor, fed by droplets that fell from the ceiling. The Tendo Dojo felt empty, lifeless. Like her.  
"Welcome home, Akane," she muttered aloud. "Welcome home."  
The front porch was as empty and decrepit as the hallway, the lack of life's evidence leaving a void in space. The rice paper wall, which had served once to divide the front room from the outside, was long since gone. Light gusts of wind blew the mist inside, coating the floor near the porch with a slick sheen. The weeds had taken over, reaching above the deck and obscuring the lay of the ground.  
For a moment, she almost saw her father and Uncle Saotome sitting in their usual spot, playing a game of Shogi in the sunlight. Kasumi would be outside hanging clothes, while Nabiki was watching television. Images from the past transposed onto the present, as thin and ethereal as the very air.  
It was gone as quickly as it had come, and the world was grey and bleak once again. The sense of relief she had felt on seeing her home still standing had now completely vanished. Without her family, without Ranma, it wasn't home. It was just an empty and decaying building, an eyesore to be removed.  
"Of course they wouldn't still be here," she said as the Crow alighted on her shoulder. "Who knows where they are now?"  
[Do not concern yourself with that. You have more important matters to deal with.]  
"Maybe coming here wasn't such a good idea."  
[It was your decision.]  
"You're a real big help." She turned and walked over to the stairs, leaving the depressing sight of the outside world behind her. Maybe, if she tried hard enough, she could pretend that she was still alive, that everyone was here and that life was just one insanity after another.  
Fat chance of that.  
The stairs creaked under her weight, screaming their protest to the world as Akane climbed to the second floor. The Crow left her shoulder, sailing easily up into the dim heights as she continued her ascent.

The spare room was empty, as she knew it would be. The walls and floor were in no better condition than those in the rest of the house, warped and cracked from years of neglect. The spots where Ranma and Genma slept were as bare as the rest of the space, further evidence of what would never be again.  
Akane crossed the floor to the small chest of drawers beneath the shattered window, drawn by an unseen force to the rotting wood. She opened one of the drawers, finding it as empty as everything else in this shell of a home. She heard the flapping of the Crow's wings as it streaked low to the floor, talons grabbing a stray cockroach in one smooth motion as she opened another drawer.  
"Huh?" The picture was old and faded, yet still clear enough as she brought it to her face.

"Meow!"  
"Ran... mmph!"

She nearly cried again at the white-hot flash of fragmented memory. Ranma had been in the grip of the Nekoken, possessed by the soul of a cat when this picture had been taken. She remembered the feel of their lips pressed, the taste of him as clearly as if it had happened yesterday rather than all those years ago. She had been surprised, hell, knocked completely for a loop by that kiss. And what did she do?  
She hit him.  
Why couldn't they ever get it right? What higher power deemed them not to be together?

For the briefest moment, the sun managed to smash through the haze of clouds above. Akane felt the warm shaft of golden light envelop her in its loving embrace, bathing her in a heavenly glow of love and life.  
For the first time in what felt like eternity, Akane smiled. It was the smile of a child, seeing the world through the eyes of innocence and wonder, the joys of living waiting to be discovered. She felt alive.

It vanished as quickly as it came, yet the feeling still lingered on the fringes of the anguish. It had been the most amazing experience of her entire existence!  
The thought gave Akane pause. The light of the sun, a thing which she had taken for granted, a thing she once thought trivial, had been the most sublime of sensations. Seeing, breathing, feeling, all of them were no longer mundane things, but possessions to be cherished.  
"What happens to me?" she asked the Crow. "What happens when I'm done here?"

[You return to the hereafter.]  
Akane shifted her gaze to the Crow, which stared at her with its unflinching obsidian eyes.  
"What if I don't want to go?"  
The Crow remained silent for a short while, as if pondering her question before answering.

[You must.]  
"Why?"  
[Which do you want, an eternity with the one you love, or a brief life in the light of the sun?]  
"I want both."  
[I am sorry, Akane, that is not possible.]  
"You brought me back!" she exclaimed, her anger rising. "You can bring him back, too!"  
[No, I cannot. Only one soul can be brought back to the mortal coil at one time, and that soul cannot remain here but for a short while.]  
"What kind of stupid rule is that?!"  
[A rule that cannot be broken,] the Crow replied in its even monologue. [The kings of the afterlives would never allow that. The dead are dead, and cannot stay amongst the living.]  
Akane glared at the bird, blind fury warring with endless despair. There had to be a way, there had to! Ranma wouldn't give up, and neither would she!  
[You must not think of this. There are much more important matters to attend to. You will be reunited with Ranma, but not on this world. Do you understand?]  
"Yeah. Perfectly." But that won't stop me from trying.

Soichiro read the report for the tenth time, his cup of coffee having long since gone cold and sitting forgotten on his desk. This wasn't possible, it just wasn't. It had to be a clerical fuck-up somewhere.  
"Forensics ran the prints four times," Akira said, "and this was the result each time."  
"Still has to be a mistake." Soichiro looked down at the date of death on Tendo's file; 04-09-00. An open and shut case.  
"Sir, are you feeling well?"  
"Hm?"  
"You've been reading that file for the past hour. Is something bothering you?"  
"Yeah, like how a dead girl could be responsible for two murders."  
"There's something you're not telling me." Soichiro glared at his young partner, at once impressed by his intuitiveness and irritated at his rudeness.  
"She was number ten, the last one."  
"What?"  
"The Nerima Slasher," Soichiro said, lighitng another cigarette. Health Nazis be damned, he needed his nicotine. "Akane Tendo was his last victim. He cut her clean in two."  
"Why would our suspect try to steal the identity of one of a serial killer's victims?" Akira asked, shaking his head in disbelief.  
"Some kind of sick joke, maybe? A weird homage to Raizo Yamata?"  
"Behavioral doesn't have a clue on that one, sir." Soichiro grunted in derision. A bunch of headshrinks, what did THEY know about real crime?  
"Has Kaneda found anything on that bird symbol?"  
"Actually, yes. Look at this." The file on Akane Tendo vanished, replaced immediately by a lengthy string of harsh green text. The nice thing about the global networks was that law enforcement information was much more accessible to police everywhere. One thing, at least, that had improved over the years. Soichiro skimmed Kaneda's findings while Akira gave him the rundown.  
"The first incidence of this symbol appearing was in 1994, in Detroit, Michigan. Four men were killed, each attack marked by a large bird painted in blood in three instances, one with fire. After the last one was found, a fifth body was discovered, possibly connected to the other four murders." Soichiro compared Akira's quick explanation with what he gleaned from the report. The details were, as expected, somewhat sketchy, but correlated with what Akira had said.  
"The second was in 2002, in Los Angeles, California. Four people dead within forty-eight hours, each with the same symbol left nearby. A fifth death was reported in that timeframe, and was found connected with the others."  
"Hmmm... Any other connections?" Soichiro tried to fit the pieces together, their stubborn lack of cooperation galling him. What was he missing?  
"This is the really strange part," Akira said, his voice betraying his disbelief. "In both instances, the first four victims were thugs and troubleshooters for a larger criminal entity. And the fifth body..."  
"Was the chief slime himself," Soichiro finished. The picture was slowly beginning to form, promising to be very terrifying indeed.  
"Yes, sir. Also, the times when the murders were committed are also strangely similar."  
"Go on."  
"The first happened on the night before Halloween."  
"Devil's Night. A bunch of hoods get together and start an assload of fires." Devil's Night was a western custom that, thankfully, hadn't come to Japan along with Halloween. "The second?"  
"On Dia de los Meurtos."  
"What?"  
"Dia de los Muertos. It's Spanish, meaning Day of the Dead. Essentially Halloween, in which participants wear costumes and masks to ward off spirits who linger on earth too long."  
The picture was slowly coming together, yet something was still missing. What was it?  
"Okay," Soichiro said, dumping his coffee in the trashbin, "twenty-six years ago, a guy takes out a bunch of scumbags and paints a bird by the bodies. Six years later, the same thing, just a different place."  
"I'd say that our suspect is out for revenge against either the Yakuza, or just those two in particular. He does some research, and finds something about those two incidents in America that interests him."  
"A copycat, then?"  
"I believe so, sir. The Behavioral Science guys at Tokyo University are thinking the same thing."  
"If this guy really is a copycat, then he's not done yet," Soichiro said. "He's just gotten started."  
"I agree. And that still doesn't explain what the bird effigies mean, nor how he got the fingerprints of a girl twenty years dead."  
"We'll burn those bridges when we get to them."

Kazuo Kagami genuflected on the cold stone floor, awaiting Kodachi's signal to rise. By the gods, that woman was strange! Even from so many feet away, he could feel her violet gaze on him like an intensely focused laser, burning away every layer of himself down to his very soul.  
"Rise, peasant," she said in her usual tone of imperious indifference. Kazuo did as he was bidden, fighting to maintain his calm facade. He feared neither man nor beast, but Kodachi Kuno scared the living hell out of him.  
She stood before the ornate picture window on the western side of the room, the light bathing her pale skin left exposed by the small, skin tight leotard, lending her an unearthly glow. In her left hand dangled a single rose, its petals black as night.  
"What is so important that you have the nerve to disturb the Black Rose so?" Her voice raised gooseflesh on his arms as she spoke. "Two of my men are dead," he replied, surprised at how steady his voice sounded.  
"And what concern is that to I, hm? Your men are beneath my contempt."  
"It may be another narawabi making a move on your territory." Kazuo stared at the floor, hoping she took it as a sign of respect. He didn't know which scared him more, her taking offence at him staring at her body, or the terror generated by meeting her gaze. At least the floor was safe. He hoped.  
"Do not insult my intelligence!" She shouted, the madness in her voice hitting him like a fist. "You know as well as anyone that those who accost Kodachi Kuno do not live to regret it!"  
"I know, mistress." I hope she doesn't see my knees knocking!  
"So, peasant, why do you bring this to my attention? Perhaps you merely wished to bask in the beauty of the Black Rose? Is that it?" Her voice had taken on an amused tone, laced with animal lust and things that Kazuo didn't want to consider.  
"No, Mistress Kodachi."  
"Do you suggest that I am not pleasant to behold?!"  
"NO! I mean... I..."  
"Cease your snivelling, worhtless commoner. Go, I am done with you."  
"Yes, mistress." Never were sweeter words ever said. "I downloaded the data our contact in the police sent to us, if you wish to look at it." Only silence greeted his ears, as if time itself were waiting for her decision. "Very well," she said after an eternity of seconds. "Remain while I entertain your simlple request."  
"Yes, mistress." Damn! Kazuo looked up as she sat behind her obsidian desk, a thing that seemed to suck the light out of the room. On its front, a relief of a rose was carved into the black wood. From the corner of his eye, he saw Kodachi access the sleek terminal atop the desk, the data undoubtedly greeting her eyes by now. As he watched, an icy fist grasped his heart as her face hardened in an exression of rage beyond comprehension.  
"What... is... THIS?!" Kazuo's guts melted at the hateful edge in Kodachi's voice, her eyes locking on his like the sights of a rifle.  
"What is it, Mistress..." He barely registered the movements of her hand as she produced the ribbon and wraped it around his neck. The silken fabric tightened around his throat like a noose, cutting off his oxygen as he felt his feet leave the floor.  
"Is this some sort of masochistic joke?!" she screamed into his ear once he landed on her desk. The ribbon slackened as her fingers yanked his head by the hair.  
With her other hand, she swivelled the terminal to face him, his head held back as far as his neck would allow. Terror lanced through his nerves as his rational mind threatened to give way to the overwhelming desire to flee from the shrieking harpy who held him.  
"N... no, Mistress Kodachi! This.. this is the f-f-file! I swear to you!"  
"Is that so?" He could practically feel the sneer without having to see her face. "How could a harlot twenty years in the grave kill two men? Well? ANSWER ME!"  
"I don't know! Please!"  
"Do you not remember her!"  
Kazuo looked at the photo on the screen, a memory stirring in a forgotten corner of his mind. Come to think of it, she did look familiar.  
"No, Mistress Kodachi! I've never seen her!"  
Another silence, this one somehow worse than the one before, descended on the room. Nothing moved, even dared breathe, as the world stood still once again. He scarecely heard the whirring of the terminal's air fan over the thunder of his heartbeat as he waited for what came next. She might forgive him, she'd done so before, but this was different. He'd never heard such raw hate in her words before, such lack of control. Besides, he didn't think he could perform if she chose to take him this time.  
"Go." The hand released him, pain throbbing in the roots of his hair. "And do not return unless summoned." He could have sworn that the temperature in the room had dropped by twenty degrees as he ran for the exit.

Kodachi stared at the whore whose likeness fouled the screen of her terminal, eyes glaring back at her. This was not possible, it couldn't be! She was a witch, true, but not even one of her ilk can return from the dead!  
"I am coming..." Startled, she looked around for the source of the whispered threat, finding only the meter-thick and triple-reinfoced walls of her sanctuary. No, this was not happening.

"Whoa!" Tetsuo exclaimed as Kazuo walked out of the Kuno Mansion toward the waiting car. "What the fuck have YOU been up to in there?"  
"Not a word, Tetsuo," he growled back. His hair was ruined, the back sticking out in several odd angles behind him. His coat and shirt were skewed, the tail of the white Ralph Lauren polo shirt hanging free of his pants. The drizzle gradually began to coat his clothing, and would soon play hell with the fabric.  
"Must've been one wild ride with the boss, eh?" He loved teasing Kazuo about his... meetings... with Kodachi Kuno. Balls of steel, everyone called him. Nobody else could ever get it up with that freak around.  
"Shut up, Tetsuo!"  
"So, how much blood did the vampire princess take this time, huh?"  
"I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Kazuo screamed, whipping out his revolver and levelling it at Tetsuo's head.  
"Whoa, whoa, Kazuo!" Tetsuo raised his hands in a placating gesture, eyes locked on the barrel of the .38 special. From that close, the small bore looked less like that of a handgun and more like that of a howitzer. "Take it easy, man! I was kidding!"  
"Yeah, sorry about that," Kazuo said, lowering the weapon.  
"She must've really torn into you in there," Tetsuo said as he climbed into the Nissan.  
"Yeah, you could say that." Kazuo entered from the other side as Tetsuo keyed over the engine. The small four cylinder motor hummed to life as the heater began to blast warm air into the cabin of the car.  
"What happened?"  
"Trust me, Tetsuo," Kazuo said as he leaned back into the seat, "you don't want to know."

============================================= Part Four =============================================

Ryo Suzaku gazed up at the gunmetal sky, his umbrella soaked from the curtain of moisture that hung in the air. The lightning had long since abated, however the weather reports predicted even more rainfall by midnight at the latest.  
Just what I need, he thought, more rain.  
With his free hand, Ryo rubbed his bleary eyes while his feet picked their path through the sea of bodies. The buzz of the city; idling engines, shouted voices, the drone of quieter voices, all fused into one intangible mess as he tried to shake the cobwebs free from his head.  
He had not gotten any sleep since awakening in a cold sweat at three that morning. Each time he closed his eyes, that dream would start again, forcing him awake.  
Maybe I need my head examined...  
"Yo, Ryo!" shouted a familiar voice from behind. Ryo turned to see Kyle jogging up to him, juking past the slower-moving pedestrians on the sidewalk. Ryo stopped to allow his friend to catch up, a small smile playing on his lips. If Kyle was good at anything, it was making him forget those nightmares. The American exchange student would never know how much he appreciated that.  
"Hey, Kyle! What kept you?"  
"Man, you know how much I hate this weather," he replied, slightly out of breath from the run. While Kyle was in decent shape, Ryo knew that he could beat him in any

physical contest. Kyle's face took on a look of bemused puzzlement as he examined him.  
"What?"  
"Ryo, you look like pure hell."  
"Oh! Sorry, didn't get much sleep last night."  
"Uh-huh," Kyle replied in his I-Thought-So voice as they began the trek to school again. "So, who was she?"  
"Damnit, Kyle!" If there was another thing the man was good at, it was being a first class pervert.  
"Don't tell me you were up all night just for the fun of it."  
"For your information, Kyle, I was studying for that calc test today." Well, that sounded good, anyway.  
"Are you STILL trippin' over that?" Kyle exclaimed. "Yeesh, man, it's just a review! It's not even a real test!"  
"Still, I don't want to get a bad mark on it," Ryo said matter-of-factly.  
"Aw, man, you need to loosen up," Kyle said with a sly grin, "and I got just the thing." He reached into the pocket of his uniform, pulling out a small white card bearing the characters for Ryo's name.  
"What's this?" Ryo asked as he took the card from Kyle's outstretched hand. The plain white surface held only his name, and an address.  
"THAT, amigo, is your ticket to heaven."  
"What?!" Kyle's grin only widened, oblivious to the thought that lanced Ryo's brain. Ryo didn't know why, but "ticket to heaven" had struck an odd chord deep within him.  
"Nanase Takeuchi, man." Kyle whispered conspiritorially into his ear.  
"You're kidding!" Nanase had the classic most-popular-girl-in-school bit; the center of all attention, captian of the cheerleaders, you name it. The fact that she was nothing short of a knockout didn't hurt, either. From what Ryo had heard, she also threw one hell of a party.  
"Party of the year, man," Kyle said with barely contained excitement. "Invitation only."  
"So, how did I get an invite?"  
"WELL," Kyle began, puffing out his chest, "it wasn't easy, but..."  
"You begged?"  
"GAH!" Ryo struggled to contain his laughter as Kyle nearly facefaulted.  
"REAL funny, Suzaku," Kyle growled as he came up alongside again. "Anyway, Nanase gave me the invite herself."  
"Really?"  
"Yep, wanted me to give it to you, since she couldn't seem to find you."  
"Well... I wouldn't want to..."  
"Go without me? I'm touched. Anyway, I got one, too," Kyle replied, pulling out a card with his name written in English.  
"I don't know..." Ryo was never much on parties.  
"Don't give me that," Kyle warned, "I'm not gonna have it. You ARE going, and you WILL have a good time, understand?!"  
"Yes, sir!" Ryo said, snapping off a mock salute.

"That's better." Both friends burst into gales of laughter as they neared the gates to Taiyo High.

"RANMA!" Her voice echoed throughout the barren plains, a feat which didn't really strike her as all that odd. Her feet pounded against the red, hard-packed earth as she charged headlong into the shadows, the sound heavy and loud in her ears.  
To her left she saw an endless sea of brackish water, its surface as tranquil as any lake. Despite the gentle breeze that carressed her face, the water remained still and undisturbed. The sky was an infinite black, darker than any night she had ever beheld.  
But none of that mattered. She had to find Ranma. Then she could question where she was.  
A shape formed from the darkness above, a mournful caw filling her ears as it dove for the ground. The shape manifested itself as it drew nearer, great obsidian wings catching the currents of air as it gracefully changed course to fly out ahead of her.  
Crow, she thought as she watched it glide in front of her. A strange feeling bloomed inside her chest, as if a tether were being attached to her from the bird, and with it came the knowledge that Ranma was indeed here.  
Follow me, it seemed to say, I shall guide you.  
She didn't know how long she ran, all her being focused on the retreating crow before her as it sailed effortlessly toward the infinite horizon. It would take her to Ranma, that was all she needed to know.  
"RANMA!"  
"AKANE!" There! Her heart skipped several beats at the sound of his voice from the distance. The Crow cawed once again as her eyes caught the vague form of a man running toward her.  
Finally, she thought, it's over. We're together now! They drew ever closer, though his embrace couldn't come soon enough for Akane. Just a few more meters...  
They collided on the shore of the mysterious river, arms wrapping around each other as Akane felt tears of joy stream down her face.  
"Ranma..." she said, her voice muffled by his red Chinese blouse.  
"Take it easy, Akane," she heard him say. "We're together now."  
She wanted to hold him forever, to never let him go again, and realized that now she could do that. The thought sent her to new heights of giddy delight and relief.  
"Are we...?"  
"Yeah, Akane," Ranma replied, "we are." She reluctantly removed herself from his powerful arms, gazing out at the impossibly tranquil water.  
"Where are we?"  
"That's the River Styx. We cross it, and go to the afterlife from there."  
Akane paused for a moment, the memories returning in full force. Oh, no, this can't be!  
"Hey! What's the matter!"  
Akane dropped to her knees on the hard earth, packed down by the crossing souls of countless people before, and cried out in despair. No, no, NO!  
"Ranma... I'm sorry!"  
"For what?"  
"I... I... couldn't... I... couldn't save you! It's my fault!"  
"Huh?"  
"You... and..."  
"Akane, you're a stupid, uncute tomboy."  
"Ranma?" she asked as she looked up at his face.  
"But you're MY stupid, uncute tomboy, and don't you ever forget it." That lopsided grin appeared on his face, and her heart sang with joy. Yes, that was the past. Let it go, girl.  
Ranma stepped back, eyes falling on the Crow that settled on her shoulder. His smile vanished, replaced by a look of... fear?  
"Ranma, what's wrong?"  
"The Crow..." His voice was choked, as if he couldn't believe his eyes.  
"Yeah, he led me to you." What was this about?  
"It's a second chance, Akane." The wind began to howl with a fierce intensity, ripping at her hair as it fought to drown out Ranma's words.  
"Ranma!"  
"Set things right, Akane!" Ranma began to fade, details becoming lost as the wind continued to gale.  
"RANMA! DON'T LEAVE ME!"  
"WHATEVER IT TAKES," he shouted, his voice barely audible over the wind, "I'LL FIND YOU!"

"NO!" The real world returned in a white hot flash of searing pain, breath coming ragged into her lungs. The black sky of limbo faded to be replaced by the ceiling of Ranma's old room, stained by water and mildew. How long had she been out?  
Akane lay spread-eagle on the floor, images of the hereafter still playing in the theatre of her mind. She didn't know how long she had wandered the shores of the Styx, lost and alone, suffering a pain that never ceased. Calling out Ranma's name until her throat refused to work.  
Then the Crow had come, and had led her back to the mortal coil. Led her to the path that would lead to Ranma. The path of revenge. She had to set things right again, to punish those who made her like this.  
Akane kippuped to a standing position, the muted light of the sun raidly giving way to the shadows of the night. The drizzle had abated, thunder rumbling ominously in the distance.

"YEAH, TAKE IT, BITCH!" Akane felt the agony as the man took Ranma's rectum, shame and hate pushing her suffering to new heights as Ranma lay unable to fight. She saw his face, that hateful, sneering face, as he invaded her again and again and...

The jagged shard of the past vanished, leaving Akane shaking in its wake. He would pay. Oh, yes, he would pay.  
"Tetsuo..." His name slithered past her lips like the hiss of the razor-keen edge of the Reaper's scythe, promising that eternal boon to her next target.

"Wow, Ryo, lookin' sharp!" Ryo looked at himself in the mirror, admiring the way the simple outfit enhanced his physique. Black polysilk slacks, creases almost sharp enough to split hair, adorned his legs with an equally dark turtleneck hugging his athletic torso. A polysilk jacket, the same shade as the rest, covered the sweater, his brown hair hanging in a ponytail down the back. Yes, he DID look good...  
"You think so?"  
"Damn straight!" Kyle wore an outfit similar to his own, only a dark shade of blue.

His unruly blonde hair had apparently decided to behave that night, falling into a stylish, slicked-back look. He joined Ryo before the mirror, grinning at their reflections.  
"Better than mere mortals deserve," Ryo said, and both burst out laughing.

"C'mon. We don't want to be late."

Naoko Tachibana glanced over at the resting form of her lover, his breathing coming rhythmically through his nose and out his mouth. He was asleep, finally. For another night, at least, it was over.  
She stared up at the darkened ceiling, fragmented shards of light from the neon signs outside casting red and green glows on the old plaster, and let the memories come.  
It wasn't always like this, she told herself as she tried to follow the patterns on the ceiling. Tetsuo was a good man at first. He had loved her, cared for her, shown her the affection she had always longed for. Since she had left home two years ago, he had been the closest thing she had to a father.  
Then it all started. He came home one day to find that dinner wasn't quite ready, and the next thing she remembered was picking herself up off the tile floor, her head throbbing and the stench of scorched food hanging in the air.  
And it had only gotten worse from there. The beatings grew more severe, and happened with greater and greater frequency. They no longer made love, each night in bed was all about his own gratification, no matter what.  
It's not lovemaking, you idiot, a voice shouted in her mind, it's rape! Pure and fucking simple!  
She wanted to leave, to just pack up her things and go... anywhere. Anywhere but home. They wouldn't take her back, she just knew it.  
Oh, and what makes you so sure? Huh? Just get dressed and hop the next train out of here! Get away!  
If I leave, he might kill me.  
If you DON'T, girlie, he WILL!  
Naoko looked over at Tetsuo's sleeping form, his now-unruly black hair spilling onto the pillow. The sheets were twisted around him, the tip of his boxers peeking out through a gap in the fabric. At that moment, the decision was made.  
She rose from the bed, careful not to squeak the springs as she climbed to her feet. The cool air brushed against her bare skin, sending a shudder down her spine. This was it, then. She snuck across the worn carpet, drawing ever closer to the dresser on which her pants lie discarded. Don't bother with the underwear, she told herself, just get some clothes on and GO!  
Her hands reached out to the wrinkled fabric, moving as if in a dream. So close, now. Just a little farther...  
"Going somewhere?"  
Naoko let out a startled gasp, an electric shock rushing through her body as she whirled to face the bed. Tetsuo sat up on the mattress, leaning against the headboard and staring right at her. The shadows hid his face, but she knew the look that was there, a smile on his face that never reached his cold blue eyes.  
"N-no, Tetsuo," she stammered, heart triphammering in her chest. So close, so damn CLOSE!  
"You wouldn't be lying to me now, would you?" he asked in that voice that said he already knew the answer. Tetsuo rose from the bed, stopping briefly to pick up the black tonfa he kept handy at night.  
"No!"  
"I think you are, Naoko." He rounded the bed, tonfa dangling lazily in his hand. Naoko knew only too well how good he was with that, and felt her stomach knot up in fear. "You know what happens when you lie to me, don't you?"  
"Tetsuo, I swear! I wasn't going anywhere!"  
"Stop lying, bitch!" he screamed, all traces of calmness gone. Naoko shut her eyes, awaiting the first blow.  
"AH! SON OF A BITCH!" She heard the door fly open, the fluttering of wings filling the air as Tetsuo screamed in surprise and pain. She slowly opened her eyes, and saw him holding his face with one hand, angry cawing coming from the bed. She looked over, seeing the huge black crow perched on the headboard. Its wings were stretched to their limits, looking as if it were about to attack.  
Hey, wait, how did a bird open the bedroom door?  
Don't think about that now, girl, RUN! Naoko heeded the voice, turning on her heel and starting for the door.  
She took her second step when she felt the murderously hard impact to her kidney. Her vision went grey as she sailed through the air, landing hard on the dresser as pain throbbed throughout her being. God, she pleaded, please don't let him kill me! The flapping of wings filled her ears again as the crow retreated back into the hall, then Tetsuo's voice telling her not to move a fucking muscle before he got back. Lastly, she heard the door latch shut and the lock turn, sealing her inside her own chamber of horrors while she fought to remain conscious.

Tetsuo Takamatsu was not having a good night. He had heard Naoko getting up from the bed, disturbing his rest in the process. He had always been a light sleeper, and years of training in the martial arts had really honed his senses.  
He had followed her movements straight to the dresser, where he knew her clothes to be, and an alarm had went off in his head. Now, she wouldn't put on clothes just to go to the kitchen or the bathroom. As such, his mind made the leap to one conclusion; she was trying to leave him. Oh good friends and oh good neighbors, Naoko had the guts to try and leave HIM! Well, we just couldn't have that, could we? No.  
Tetsuo stalked through the dark, narrow hallways of the apartment, moving with the grace of a cat on the hunt as he sought out that damn bird. He had been about to... correct her... when that damn thing had busted in. The scratches left by its talons still stung his face, the blood having stopped oozing from the wounds. Nobody did that to him, especially not some garbage bird. First, he'd take care of the little, or in this case big, pest, and then he'd take care of Naoko. It wasn't as if she could go anywhere now, not with that shot to the kidney she'd had. She wasn't exactly what one could call sturdy.  
"C'mere, birdy, birdy, birdy," Tetsuo crooned as he neared the archway to the foyer. "Uncle Tetsuo's got a cracker for ya."  
"Not hungry." The form swooped from the top of the archway, hanging upside-  
down in the small space. For a split second, Tetsuo stared at the shape that vaguely looked human, too stunned to act. before he could recover, a hand closed around his face. The fingers dug into his flesh, intense pressure threatening to crack the bones of his face as he felt himself flung forward.  
Tetsuo came to a stop halfway across the room, easily regaining his feet as the shape hit the floor. He raised his tonfa, surprised when the intruder assumed a stance as well. So, he wanted a fight, huh?  
With a savage yell Tetsuo lunged forward, his tonfa coming down in a vicious diagonal swing. The shadow easily dodged, then stepped lightly back out of his followup strike. He felt a small seed of fear plant itself in his chest as the fight continued, growing with each missed attack. The guy gracefully avoided every swing and thrust, moving with fluid grace across the floor.  
He brought the baton down once more, and the intruder didn't dodge. Tetsuo's rush of exhilaration turned to terror when the shadow raised its arm, the blocking move shattering the reinforced wood of the tonfa.  
What the?! he thought in horror as he stared stupidly at his ruined weapon. That should have broken the guy's fucking arm! He didn't have time to ponder the matter further when the series of kicks slammed into his torso with inhuman speed and strength, doubling him over as the fierce uppercut sailed him back into the old couch which occupied the far corner of the room.  
The seed had grown into a full-blown beanstalk of fear as the stranger leapt the distance between them, landing lightly on the couch on top of him. A forearm braced itself against his neck, applying enough pressure to make breathing difficult as the shadowed face moved to within millimeters of his own.  
"Tetsuo..."  
This was a woman? He had been beaten by a WOMAN?! The flare of indignation dimmed next to the terror that tried to consume him as she spoke again.  
"I want you to do something for me, Tetsuo."  
"What... the fuck..."  
"LISTEN!" Silence descended on the world for a brief moment as he waited for her to start again. "I want you to deliver a message for me. Can you do that?"  
"gah..." She was starting to press much harder, his arms stubbornly refusing to move.  
"I'll take that as a yes," she said, her breath washing against his face. "Tell Yamato and Kazuo that I'm coming for them. Very soon."  
Kazuo? Yusaku? Was this...  
"Do you know a man named Genki? How about Yoshi?" She asked, her voice now laced with madness. "They both had a habit of sticking things where they don't belong. Like the coat?"  
Her? THIS was the one who killed Genki and Yoshi? Tetsuo nearly lost control of his bladder as the ice cold terror reached deeper within him. He had never been this afraid before.  
"Now, what do I want you to do?" The pressure eased from his throat, allowing him to breathe freely again as his lips moved of their own accord.  
"T... tell Kazuo a-a-and Yamato that you're coming for them."  
"Good boy. Tell them I'm an old friend of theirs." She climbed off the couch, nearly melting into the shadows. "Now I think you should run for your life. While you still have it."  
Tetsuo felt his arms and legs come to life, raising him from the couch and propelling him toward the door.  
"Tetsuo!"  
He froze in place, too afraid to turn around.  
"Don't try to skip out on me. I'll find you, and I'll hurt you. Very much. And very slowly." Those words haunted the dark recesses of Tetsuo's mind as he charged out the door, unmindful of his state of dress as panic ate away at his sanity.

Akane watched him run like the coward he was, the coward that all men like him were. She still felt the taint of him on her body, a sickening presence that made her want to shower and vomit all at once. She suddenly found it amazing that God would waste His most precious gift on trash like Tetsuo Takamatsu.  
He would deliver her message, Akane had no doubts about that. She was also sure he would try to run. That was of no consequence to her. She would find him, and make good on her promise. She wanted the others to know she was coming, to feel the fear before she made them feel the pain.  
The Crow landed on her shoulder with a quick flutter of its wings as she made her way to the bedroom. There was other business to attend to before she left, and it would be best to do it quickly.

Naoko Tachibana fought to ignore the stabbing pain in her right side, breathing in deep gulps as she hid beside the door. The empty bottle of sake shook in her unsteady hand, held up beside her head as she nervously awaited Tetsuo's return.  
Leaving was no longer an option, the bars on the window preventing use of the fire escape. This was it, the final showdown. She had no illusions about her chances, Tetsuo was an eigth degree black belt, but she would no longer cower in fear of him. If she was going to go out, she would go out fighting.  
Her heart skipped a beat when the knob began to turn, the lock holding the door shut. The incessant rattle sounded like fireworks in the otherwise still silence of the bedroom, setting her teeth further on edge. Why didn't he just get on with it?!  
A fist rammed through the door just beside the knob, the sound piercing her eardrums like a gunshot and nearly causing her to drop the bottle. The hand reached around, turning the lock on the door before retreating back through the splintered hole. Tetsuo must be pissed!  
The door slowly opened, and Naoko let fly with the bottle.

Akane felt the attack coming long before the other girl had launched it. Before the bottle had come anywhere near her head, her right hand lashed out and caught the girl's wrist, holding it firmly. With a gentle squeeze in the right spot, the weapon fell harmlessly to the floor with a muffled thump.  
"I'm not going to hurt you," Akane said, turning her head to face the girl. She could feel the confusion radiating from her, the fear charging the air, and Akane's heart went out to her. "Tetsuo's gone. He'll never bother you again." She released the other girl's hand and flipped the light switch.  
Oh, my God... Most of the bruises on the girl's exposed flesh had faded to an ugly yellow, a few still fresh and black. In that instant, Akane regretted letting Tetsuo live to deliver the message. She should have killed the bastard when she had the chance.  
Akane squelched the rage that bubbled up within her. What was done was done, and could not be undone. She would get another chance.

Naoko rubbed her eyes, fear taking a back seat to confusion at the sight of the girl in front of her. Her hair was matted and filthy, beaten down around her head. A new black trenchcoat fell to her knees, hiding most of the tattered clothing beneath it. Her face was pale and dirty, tracks of tears cutting through the grime.  
"Tetsuo?"  
"He's gone." Her voice, it was filled with pain and anger, the twin emotions dancing in her brown eyes. For the first time, Naoko was more afraid of someone than Tetsuo.  
"My name's Akane," she said, moving closer while Naoko backed away. She let out a startled gasp when her back hit the wall, the certainty that escape was impossible reasserting itself. "What's yours?"  
"N... Naoko..." The crow returned, perching once more on the headboard and staring at them with its beady eyes.  
"Naoko," Akane said, a smile forming on her lips. "That's a pretty name."  
"Just take what you want," Naoko pleaded weakly, sperading her weary legs slightly. "But please don't hurt me."  
"I won't, Naoko. I promise."  
Naoko flinched as Akane's hands came up beside her head, gently grasping each side.

"I HATE YOU!"  
"GET OUT!" Her father, such a stern and imposing figure, stood before her with an expression of intense anger on his rugged face as she turned and walked out the door.  
NO! PLEASE!  
"My name's Tetsuo."  
"Naoko."  
DON'T GO WITH HIM! RUN AWAY! RUN, YOU STUPID BITCH! The parade of memories continued as Naoko shouted in vain at the images of herself, trying to tell her not to go with Tetsuo.  
"Naoko..." Her mother, sitting on the couch, crying over a picture from high school, her father draping an arm around the woman's delicate shoulders, were those tears in his eyes, too?  
I don't remember this!  
She felt their pain, their fear as day after day went past, worrying about the welfare of their little Naoko-chan.  
NO! DAD! MOM! I'M HERE!

The flood of memories and images ceased as abruptly as it had begun, Akane's hands vanishing from her head. Naoko stood against the wall, tears flowing from her eyes to soak her cheeks. What had she done? What hell had she put her own parents through for two long years? She sank to her knees, a low wail escaing her lips as she squeezed her eyes shut from the pain.  
"It's not too late." Akane's voice cut through the haze of pain, both physical and emotional, and seized her calm. "You can still go home again."  
"I... I..."  
"Your mom and dad just want their little girl back. Don't worry about Tetsuo, or what you've done. They'll forgive you. Just go home."  
Naoko seized those last three words, repeating them over and over again until she found the strength to rise to her feet and open her eyes.  
"What?" The room was empty, both Akane and the crow gone. Had it all been some weird dream? Had she just imagined it all? Shaking, Naoko stepped over to the dresser and donned the pants and shirt that lay on the surface. Dream or no, she was going home.  
A she passed the bedroom door, she spotted the hole left behind from Akane's punch, jagged edges jutting out into the empty space. She felt a shudder of fear run through her before she bolted for the door to the hallway outside.

Akane watched from the rooftop across the street as Naoko Tachibana stepped out of the dingy apartment building she had called home for far too long. The girl below cast furtive glances left and right, as if searching for her former lover before flagging down a passing taxi. Akane watched as the beat up yellow cab carried Naoko out of view, and hopefully to a new life.  
"Think she'll make it?"  
[Her time has not come yet.]  
Akane merely nodded toward the Crow on her shoulder, knowing she had gotten the closest thing to an affirmative she would from the supernatural bird.  
She let a small smile lay across her lips as she turned away from the building across the way. Helping Naoko like that, making her realize that she COULD go home again, had made her feel more alive. Mission or no, she could never have left the girl to suffer in that prison any more than she could cut off her own head.  
I may be dead, she thought as she neared the edge of the roof, but I'm still human.

=================================================== Part Five ===================================================

"What'd I tell ya?" Kyle asked as he and Ryo stepped into the spacious room. "Party of the YEAR, man!"  
"Yeah, it's really packed in here," Ryo commented as he made his way into the moving ocean of flesh. Heay industrial music thundered throughout the main room of the dance hall Nanase Takeuchi had rented for the occaision, rattling his teeth with each roar of the bass. The frantic movements of the colored lights above assaulted his eyes in a rapid fire deluge of primary colors, the forms of the other guests blinking in and out of the shadows. It was almost enough to give Ryo a headache just from being there.  
WHY did I come here, again? he asked himself as he attempted to maneuver his way through the dancing throng of people, his head already starting to hurt from the noise and lights. The aroma of smoke and sweat tinged the air around him, teasing his nose as he made his way to a clear spot.  
He spotted Kyle in the middle of the dancing throng, easily a head taller than most of the dancers on the floor. His head bobbed in time with the music, hinting at the motions the rest of his body was performing. Ryo had to admit, Kyle really got into the party scene.  
"I was wondering when you'd show up!" Ryo turned toward the voice that was barely audible over the cacophony of music to see Nanase sidling up next to him.  
Her raven's wing hair spilled over her shoulders in a shimmering wave, the ultra-  
tight miniskirt outfit leaving little of her creamy skin to the imagination. Her blue eyes sparkled with a mischevious light, a sly smile playing her ruby lips. Ryo found himself staring at her for a tad too long and forced himself to look at her face. As if that was any less attractive...  
"Hey, what can I say?" he shouted in reply. "Couldn't miss it!"  
"Glad to hear it!" Her body moved in time with the music, as if screaming for him to stare at it. Oh, what wonders... "Whatcha doin' in the corner?"  
"Um... well..." Before he could make any more a fool of himself, Ryo felt Nanase grab him by the wrist and drag him out to the floor. "HEY!"

"GO, RYO!" Kyle watched as Nanase hauled Ryo out to the center of the floor, her body gyrating in such a way as to cause a severe nosebleed. Ryo just stood there, looking as lost as... well... as somebody he couldn't quite recall. Come on, you dolt! he mentally screamed, MOVE!  
Tentatively, Ryo began to dance with Nanase. His movements were stiff, wooden even as he tried to find the rhythm of the music. Kyle wanted to go over and strangle his friend. He was blowing the chance of a LIFETIME!  
After a few moments, Ryo's movements became more fluid and Kyle breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, the kid gets into it! As the dance went on, and Ryo became even more immersed in the thundering rhythm, Kyle began to wonder just where his Japanese friend had learned such moves.  
Ryo dropped into a split and then sprang back up into a backflip, all without missing a beat before moving with Nanase again. Holy SHIT! The man's better than I thought!

Hey, this is fun! Ryo thought as he danced with Nanase. The movements started coming naturally to him as the music invaded his brain, his body moving almost on instinct with the rhythm. He met Nanase's approving gaze, that glint of mischief brighter than ever. Oh, he was starting to be happy he came.  
Ryo didn't know what came over him when he pulled off a split in the middle of the beat, then sprang up to a backflip. Something had just told him to do it, to show off a little. Cheers met his ears as he resumed dancing, Nanase's lips curled into an impressed grin.  
I didn't know I had it in me! he thought as he kept moving, letting his body take complete control. He almost didn't notice the sour glare that manifested itself on Nanase's face until he felt a presence behind him.  
"I didn't invite you!" she shouted over the music. Ryo turned around to see what the trouble was, and nearly groaned.  
"Hey! We get invited to ALL the good parties! Didn't you know that?!" Hyo Imawano strode into the circle around Ryo and Nanase, other people halting as they saw him pass. His long white hair hung in a ponytail that started almost at the top of his head, his face set in a confident smirk as he swaggered up to Nanase. Black, loose fitting jeans hung over his sneakers with a red muscle shirt showing off his highly toned torso. Behind him stood his two cronies, a small-fry named Yuu and a hulking sumo-type named Morita.  
"Not this one," Nanase snarled as the music abruptly stopped. The air became charged with tension as everyone formed around the group. Everybody knew that a fight was about to happen. Wherever the toughest guy ever to walk the halls of Taiyo High went, someone got his ass kicked.  
"Is that right?" Hyo chuckled. "C'mon, girl, let's dance." Hyo's hand was caught midway to Nanase's wrist and jerked violently away as Kyle appeared next to them.  
"The lady said get out," Kyle growled, leaning into Hyo's face.  
"And who's gonna make me? YOU?!"  
"You wanna try it, boy?"  
Ryo watched the events spiral out of control, anger singing in his blood. He felt it wash over him like a tidal wave, sweeping him away in a current of confidence and rage. Deep within, Ryo was terrified, but that didn't matter. This punk had to PAY!  
"HYO!" Every eye turned to him, but Ryo didn't care.  
"What do YOU want, punk?" Hyo snapped, glaring daggers at him.  
"For you to take your ass-buddies and clear the hell outta here!"  
"Well! The pretty-boy thinks he can fight?"  
"Ryo, don't do it!" Nanase said in his right ear, the words quickly proceeding out his left.  
"Don't worry," he replied, "I ain't gonna lose."  
"EAT IT, BOY!" Ryo read every move the other man made, how he shifted his weight to the left, leading into a lunging punch aimed for his head. In that moment, he realized that Hyo's only advantage was reach and brute strength. As far as technique went, he wasn't from shit.  
Ryo easily parried the punch, using the second the other spent recovering to his advantage. He came in low, fists flying into every vulnerable spot he could reach. Solar plexus, throat, each blow coming with a speed and strength Ryo never knew he possessed. Somewhere within the dizzying wave of confidence, however, Ryo wondered just how in hell he was doing all this.  
Ryo stepped back, taking in Hyo's stunned and slooping form for a brief moment before twisting around and unleashing a roundhouse that slammed into his opponent's head. The sound of Hyo dropping to the floor rang out in the now-silent dance hall, snapping Ryo back to his senses. Oh, shit, what had he just done?  
Drained, he looked around at the sea of faces, all bearing looks of stunned surprise. Kyle looked at him as if he were some kind of alien, while Nanase stared as if she really hadn't known him after all. Numbing cold began to seep into him as Hyo moaned on the floor, and the impact of what he had just done hit him.  
"I... I gotta go.." he stammered, bursting through the crowd to the exit across the room.

"RYO! WAIT!" Kyle started after him, worry for his friend battling with a sense of confusion. Ryo had never, EVER fought before. As far as he could remember, Kyle had never even seen him swat a fly and now he was knocking the shit out of the toughest guy in school?  
"I ain't gonna lose." Those words played again in his head as he came into the cool night air. Ryo had never spoken like that, either. What was wrong with him?

Hyo awoke to the sounds of car horns, every inch of him wanting to throb from the beating he had been thrown.  
Hey, wait. Somebody had beaten HIM?  
Memories began to return, that little Ryo twerp's fists slamming into him again and again before the roundhouse that had put his lights out. Hyo felt his hate for the little pretty-boy skyrocket as he regained his feet. Oh, that little shithead was gonna PAY!  
"You okay, Hyo?" asked Yuu.  
"Yeah. Let's go, boys. I'm not done with Ryo Suzaku yet."

Ryo ran until his legs finally refused to move anymore, spilling him against a nearby wall. Thunder rumbled in the distance, heralding yet another violent storm to come soon. He didn't care. He was too confused to care about some stupid storm.  
What came over me?! In those moments back at the party, something had taken control of him. Something Ryo had never known lurked inside his head that flattened Hyo in less than a minute.  
His lungs burned for air as he took oxygen in deep gasps, stinging his throat with each breath. Ryo's legs felt rubbery and weak, the stained brick wall the only thing holding him upright.  
He had never felt so... so... confident. So powerful. In that brief span of time, Ryo had felt he could do absolutely anything. But what scared him, terrified him, was that he also felt that he was someone else entirely.  
"RYO!"  
He turned his head to see Kyle charging up the empty sidewalk toward him, his face mostly obscured in the dim light. He waited as his friend slowed to approach the wall, wishing that he was anywhere but here.  
"Hey, Kyle."  
"Man, what the HELL was THAT?!" Ryo flinched at the confused inflection in Kyle's words, fear lurking at the edges. Great, even Kyle thinks I've gone nuts.  
"I don't know."  
"Don't hand me that! You just pasted Hyo Imawano! Do you have any idea just what you've done?"  
"You were about to do the same thing!"  
"That's not the point," Kyle replied, shaking his head. "Ryo, dude, I have never seen you fight before, and here you plaster the toughest guy this side of Los Angeles! Man, who pissed in YOUR corn flakes this morning?"  
"Kyle," Ryo began, his irritation fighting to ward off his fatigue, "I don't want to talk about it. I.. I... I just want to go home."

"Ain't that touching?" Kyle and Ryo turned as one as Hyo Imawano stepped out of the mouth of the alley before which they stood, his two goons flanking. Ryo's heart sank at the sight. Aw, why NOW? "Pretty boy just wants to go home," he continued in a mockingly sweet voice. "Let's send him home, huh?"  
"Ryo," Kyle said into his ear, "If you got any more of that karate stuff, now is a great time to use it."  
"Yeah, pretty boy," Hyo snarled, "let's see some of that shit again!"  
"Back off, asshole!" Kyle shouted, moving in front of Ryo.  
"Fuck you!" From behind his friend, Kyle saw Hyo lunge in, Kyle raising his arms in defense. Unfortunately, Yuu and Morita joined in. The sumo grabbed Kyle's left arm, yanking Kyle off balance as Hyo's fist slammed into his temple.  
NO! Ryo screamed inside as he saw the three jump his friend as one, the sickening sounds of fists slamming against flesh and bone invading his ears. Come on, he pleaded, where is that thing when I need it!  
"He's had it," Hyo chuckled, the three of them backing away from Kyle. Ryo's horrified gaze fell on the American, lying on the damp pavement in a state of semi-  
consciousness. He looked up when Hyo's smoldering gaze fell on him, fear sinking into his heart. "Your turn!"  
Ryo backed away from the wall, raising his fists. Okay, don't let me down! Yuu and Morita charged him first, grabbing his right and left arms respectively and holding them tight. The first punch nearly doubled him over, the air pushed from Ryo's lungs in a rush just as the second blow rocked his head, then the third, and a fourth to the body, and then...  
"What the fuck?" Hyo exclaimed as the large black shape shot past his head. Ryo followed its trajectory as it arched upward, circling to perch on the rail of a fire escape above. An angry caw filled the night, as if the bird (Crow)  
were screaming for them to stop.  
"Let him go."  
Hyo, Yuu, and Morita started at the sudden voice, soft and quiet while filled with an unmistakeable malice. Ryo, however, felt a shaft of ice lance his stomach at the sound.

That voice... the voice from his dreams... "The hell are you?" Hyo shouted at the form that stalked out of the shadows. The figure stopped at Kyle's prone form, kneeling to help the recovering American to his feet.  
"Are you okay?" she asked, holding him up and guiding him to the wall.  
"Yeah, I'll be alright," he replied as she gently leaned him against the bricks.  
"Just take it easy. This won't take long."  
"You want what they're gettin'? Huh?" Hyo shouted.  
"Do you?" she replied.

Akane glared at the white-headed man, searching for any reason at all to justify ripping his head off.  
[Do not kill them,] the Crow warned, [they are not the ones you seek.]  
"Yeah, yeah, I know."  
"Lookit this," the man said, "she's talkin to that bird! Now I've seen everything!"  
"The Crow's a friend of mine," Akane replied, taking a step toward him.  
"That right? Well, you oughtta take your friend and leave, freak!"  
"I think you should take your own advice." This was getting nowhere. Akane had been brought back for a purpose, and it wasn't to play the Good Samaritan. She didn't have much time to waste on punks like these. But she couldn't turn a blind eye to something like this, either.  
"Alright, bitch," the man snarled, "your funeral."  
Akane stood her ground as he approached, reading his every move as if it were a manga. This guy wasn't a threat, he was a joke! But still, best to handle this fast. She had things to do, and not much time.  
His punch came with surprising speed, aimed at her head, but Akane was ready for it. Centimeters before his fist would have connected, she grabbed it in a two handed grip and began to twist around. She caught a satisfying glimpse of the shock on his face as she whirled around twice before releasing his limb.  
"AW SHI... OOF!" He slammed into the smaller man, the two tumbling end over end out of the alley. Without pause, Akane leapt skyward toward the largest of the three, who had by then released the boy. Time moved in slow motion as Akane completed her somersault, extending her right leg in a vicious kick that slammed into his chest. Akane bent her knee slightly before springing back into another flip to land on the pavement in a crouch.  
"Oh... fuck..." the white-haired man moaned as he regained his feet. Akane stood rooted in place, glaring at him as he fought to stand.  
"You oughtta leave," she said, "now."  
The smaller one rose to his feet and promptly heeded her advice, with the big one close behind. The last looked after the retreating forms of his cowardly comrades before shooting her what was supposed to be a menacing glare. He finally turned tail and ran away himself.  
Poor guy, she thought as she crouched before the kneeling form of the gaijin's friend. Might as well help him up...  
[DO NOT TOUCH HIM!]

A thousand images invaded her mind, destroying her sanity and rebuilding it only to smash it all over again. They came far too fast for her brain to process, jagged scenes from a life long ago that tore at her consciousness like a million shards of glass.  
The agony exploded in her brain, rushing to fill the rest of her body. It reverberated within her like the sound of every torment without release, shaking her down to the molecular level as each disjointed scene seared her very soul. Her scream was lost in the raging maelstrom of hellish torture, leaving her unsure if the sound of her own ragged voice was real or imagined.  
"WHATEVER IT TAKES, I'LL FIND YOU!" His voice, oh, God his voice... nononono NO!

Ryo stared open-mouthed at the wailing woman before him, terror and sympathy fighting for dominance with terror rapidly gaining the advantage. Her scream - no, scream didn't do justice to the sound ripping from her lungs - shook him to his very soul as it ricocheted off the narrow walls of the alley.  
"What's wrong with her?" Ryo ignored Kyle's shocked question, kneeling next to the girl who had since curled up into a fetal position. Violent shudders ran through her body, visible even beneath the black trenchcoat she wore. Ryo reached a tentative hand out to her shoulder, intending to relay perhaps a little comfort to the obviously disturbed girl.  
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" she yelled, springing to her feet and launching herself away from him and down the alley.  
"Ryo, man, we gotta get the hell outta here!"  
As Kyle desperately shook his shoulder, Ryo stared after the girl as she vanished into the shadows, the cawing of the crow fading into the distance.  
"Yeah. Yeah, let's go." In his entire life, Ryo Suzaku had never been so terrified.

Yamato Kikato glanced across the room at Kazuo, who sat in the only other chair in the living room, as the two waited for Tetsuo to gather his wits. The shaded bulbs on the ceiling bathed the room in their false glow, glistening off the sheen of sweat that coated Tetsuo's exposed skin. Yamato looked at the digital clock that sat above his television. One-fifteen in the morning.  
"Now," Kazuo said, leaning back into the cushions of the recliner, "tell me what's so important that you had to drag me here at one in the morning."  
Tetsuo reached for the tumbler of scotch which sat on the table between them, his hand trambling violently as he brought the squat glass to his lips and took an unsteady gulp.  
"She came to my place," he began after he set the empty drink on the table.  
"Who did?"  
"HER, man!" Yamato took in the wild look in Tetsuo's eyes and found himself wondering who on earth could have spooked him so bad. "The crazy bitch did Genki and Yoshi!"  
Yamato took in a startled gasp as a cold feeling bloomed in his stomach. He looked over at Kazuo, whose eyes had widened slightly at the news. He had a bad feeling about this...  
"How do you know?" Yamato asked in a surprisingly calm voice.  
"She was wearin' one of Yoshi's fuckin' coats, man!" Tetsuo shouted. "She even admitted it! Said they had a habit of stickin' shit where it don't belong or somethin'!"  
"But that doesn't prove that this woman murdered Genki and Yoshi," Kazuo returned, reaching for his own drink.  
"I'm tellin' ya, man, she did it. She told me to tell you that she's comin' for you. For US, man!"  
"And you just decided to do what she told you?" Yamato asked as he tried to process what Tetsuo was trying to say. Someone was gunning for them, that was certain, but who? And, more importantly, why?  
"She... she..." Tetsuo hesitated as if the words were sticking in his throat. "She kicked my ass."  
"Say what?" Kazuo half-laughed.  
"Bitch beat the shit outta me!"  
"You mean you let some girl kick your ass?" Yamato chortled, unable to believe it. Tetsuo was as tough as they came. Yamato himself had seen the man tear apart groups of three or more at once. The thought of him losing to one woman was... it was ridiculous!  
"I'm fuckin' serious, you one-legged ass clown!" Tetsuo screamed, shooting to his feet and fixing Yamato with a smoldering gaze. "That bitch is fucking weird! I don't mean funny weird, I mean scary weird!"  
"Tetsuo, calm down."  
"FUCK you, Kazuo!"  
"Tetsuo, I won't tell you again. Plant your ass back on that couch now!"  
Tetsuo continued to glare daggers at Kazuo, the latter merely sitting comfortably in the recliner. After a few moments the standoff ended with Tetsuo relenting and retaking his seat.  
"That's better. Now, did she leave those scratches on your face?"  
"No, that was the damn bird."  
"Bird"?  
"Yeah, Yamato, a big goddamn crow. Bastard nearly ripped my face off."  
"So, you're convinced that this girl is responsible for the deaths of Genki and Yoshi?"  
"Damn straight, Kazuo. She did it, and we're next." Outside, the thunder cracked again, the sound far closer than before.

The Crow bore silent witness as Akane lay on the damp surface of the roof, legs curled to her chest as her hands desperately gripped her head. With each passing moment, it saw another spasm of agony rip through her body. Frightened whimpers escaped her lips as the thunder roared overhead, a perfect mirror to what it knew to be the storm raging in her mind and heart.  
Others had been in this position before, fighting desperately to be with the ones they loved only to find that they had been brought back to the world of the living in a new body. Even the Crow had to admit that it wasn't fair.  
Often, such things tended to be the downfall of those its kind returned. They would lose sight of why they had been brought back, not completing what they had started. The soul would return to the land of the dead and never have peace, forever roaming the afterlife searching for a love they would never find. There were no second chances at vengeance. It cawed softly to the pain-wracked woman, telling her to rise again.

"Why?" A single word that conveyed a universe of questions, all compressed into three letters. Why should I get up? Why should I even bother to go on? "Why didn't you tell me?"  
[You were not meant to know...]  
"DON'T YOU GIVE ME THAT CRAP!" Akane rose to her feet, the old familiar anger burning in the depths of her despair growing quickly into tormented rage. "You said we'd be together! You said I'd find Ranma after I was done!"  
[And you will.]  
"BULLSHIT!" Akane screamed at the bird, who was perched on a small satellite dish. "You lied to me! Ranma's HERE, don't you get that? He's here, and when I'm done, I'll be dead while he's alive and..."  
[Listen to me, Akane...]  
"NO! I'm through listening to you!" The raging torrent of emotions nearly made her ill, swirling and roaring as the storm of hatred and sorrow reached up from her soul. "Ranma's alive, and I'm gonna go to him!"  
[He does not know you.]  
"Ranma..."  
[HE DOES NOT KNOW YOU! Ranma's soul is dormant within the body of that boy! You may know him, but he will not recognize you!]  
Akane stood rooted in place as another blast of thunder rent the air around her. She didn't believe it, no way. Ranma would never forget her. Never!  
[The only way you can be with him is to punish the men who pulled you apart.]  
"And go back without him?" she asked, her voice choking with tears she thought she had cried out. Akane felt them collect at the corners of her eyes, spilling over down her cheeks to leave wet trails of salt on her skin. "How long will I have to wait, huh? Twenty m-more y-years?"  
[Time has no meaning to the dead,] the Crow replied. [Twenty years or a hundred, it will all seem as one.]  
"Well, I'm not gonna wait that long." She would not wait ever again...  
[Where are you going?]  
"I'm going to find him. To find Ranma," Akane said as she strode to the edge of the roof. On the street below were the lights of cars and storefronts, people moving about like ants under the light of their false suns.  
[You must not!]  
"Listen up, you overgrown feather-duster!" she roared, whirling to face the Crow. "I don't give a good goddamn WHAT you think I have to do! I'm going to be with Ranma, and I don't care what you think about it! Now, are you going to guide me, or do I have to go it alone?!"  
The Crow stayed silent, the heat of its gaze threatening to burn a hole in Akane's very soul as they stared at each other.  
[Very well, Akane,] it replied, its voice casting a frost over her mind, [I will guide you. But always remember that you are the one who started on this journey. At the end, you will never be the same again.]

Ryo lay awake in the darkness of his room, his body throbbing incessantly from the beating he had recieved at Hyo's hands. The pale glow of the streetlamp outside did little to illuminate the space which he called his sanctuary, merely casting a strip of weak blue light on the ceiling. Aside from the stray blasts of thunder, all was silent.  
Within his mind was another matter altogether. The scene from the alley kept playing over and over, the girl who saved him and Kyle coming in and out of focus. Each time, he became more and more certain. It was her, it had to be! The girl from his dreams, the girl whose likeness he constantly placed on paper. The girl named Akane.  
And just how is that possible? his rational brain asked. She's a figment of your imagination.  
Yeah? countered his more open side. Why don't you tell her that? She's real.  
It was a coincidence!  
Says you!  
Ryo stared up at the ceiling, wishing his brain would shut up and let him sleep. He closed his eyes only to find the image of Akane staring back at him, her face white as death and lined with black around the eyes and mouth.  
He awoke with a start, unsure of where he was. Had he dozed off? What...  
Ryo felt the presence beside him, soft and rhythmic breathing teasing his right ear. His chest tightened with fear as he lay on the bed still as a stone. Was it Hyo again? "LIGHTS!"

Akane started at the boy's shout, a sudden burst of illumination stabbing her eyes. She leapt backward, squinting to clear her eyes as the boy scrambled to his feet. He was... afraid of her. The Crow's warning came to her unbidden, that he wouldn't know her. Had it been right after all?  
"Who..." She heard the words die on his lips as her vision cleared. That body, while a bit slender, was very well muscled. His long chestnut hair fell unbound to his shoulders, his face framing a set of sea blue eyes that seemed to have endless depth. For a brief moment, she thought she was staring at Ranma in the flesh, rather than in spirit.

"I won't hurt you." Hope, so powerful that it hurt, rose into her chest as she approached him. He looked at her with a confused expression, as if he didn't know what to make of her.  
"I... I know. I'm Ryo. Ryo Suzaku."  
"I'm..."  
"Akane, right?"  
Akane felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach with a concrete fist. He... he knew her name! The Crow was wrong, he DID know! She had been right!  
"Yes! It's me!"  
"But who are you?" No, he knew her name, he'd know the rest! He had to!  
"Don't you know me?" she pleaded. "Don't you know who I am?"  
"I don't know who you are," Ryo answered, shaking his head. "All I know is that you've been haunting me for the past month."  
"But..."  
"Who are you, Akane?" In that instant, Akane felt her hope shatter like a glass dropped onto the floor by a careless child. The flutter of wings drew her attention to the window through which she had entered, the Crow standing on the sill as if to say I told you so.  
"I... I..." Please, she pleaded to whatever kind-hearted diety happened to be listening, help me! Let him see!  
She saw Ryo's face pale at the sight of the Crow before returning to hers. In those eyes she saw no recognition, no sign of Ranma. Just confusion and fear.  
NO! I won't give up! That's Ranma in there, and I'll MAKE him see who I am!  
"I want to show you something, Akane," Ryo said, walking past her to the small desk that rested against the wall behind her. Her eyes traced every line of muscle on his back, her heart aching at the sight of him as he pulled open the bottom drawer.  
Ryo came to his feet, a large sketchpad in his hands. His eyes shifted from the pad to the Crow then to her before he pulled out a chair. He motioned to the small seat, Akane walking over to him. The urge to just reach out and touch him was powerful, almost overwhelming as she sat on the worn cushion. Here was the man she loved, trapped in another body with no real idea of who she was.  
"Take a look at these."  
Akane took the pad from him, her jaw dropping open at the first picture. She remembered that day, sitting at the shore of the lake, seeing it captured on paper bringing it back into sharp focus.

Akane could feel the grass through the material of the white sundress, the light breeze brushing against her bare arms on that perfect Spring day so long ago. The day the wind had taken her hat, and Ranma had given her that flower. Such a small display, yet it spoke volumes more than mere words ever could.

In a flash, it was gone. With each drawing, she saw another fragment of her life parade before her eyes in a never ending cadre of memories. The tears came again as she realized just how much time she and Ranma had wasted, how many opportunites both of them had botched. It wasn't always him, why had she thought that?  
"Did you do these?" she asked in a tight voice.  
"Yeah. I just... well... I see them. When I dream."  
An image of them all on Togenkyo flared to life, everyone posing for the picture that had been taken just before they returned to Japan, the one Ranma had framed for her that one Christmas. The sweetness of his gesture had touched her heart in a way nothing else had before. The scene vanished into the mists of time with the turning of the page,  
and her heart froze. The picture before her was a detailed sketch, with the stark white of the paper counterbalancing the thick, dark shadows laid down by the pencil. A face - her face, yet different, more menacing - was staring vividly out at her as if alive, half-hidden in the shadows. The Crow was there, too, its wings spread in flight in the background. This was not from her past... it was from now.  
"That's the most recent one," Ryo said quietly. "It's the one I've been seeing the most."  
Akane continued to stare at the picture before her, an odd feeling creeping up from the back of her mind. All of a sudden, she wanted what she saw. She wanted to BE the woman on the paper.  
"I, um, have some paints..."  
Akane looked up into his beautiful eyes, and simply nodded. Without a word, Ryo slid open a drawer just above the one where the sketchpad had once rested. He reached into its depths, pulling out two small glass jars and setting them on the desktop. Next came a small, fine bristled brush and a tiny rectangular sponge. Ryo unscrewed the cap of the first jar, taking a short dowel rod from the drawer and stirring the mixture within before dipping the sponge.  
The first touch was cool to her skin, the sensation sreading as he gently applied the paint to her face. Akane sat motionless as he worked, coating her face in the purest of all colors. Her eyes remained locked on his, trying to find any signs of Ranma.  
The sponge traced her jaw, softly caressing the skin as he worked. The sight, the nearness of him made her heart want to leap from her chest. It's me, you jerk! I'm here, Ranma, answer me!  
Ryo put the sponge on a sheet of paper that rested on the desk, twisting the cap on the other jar afterward. With the other end of the dowel, he stirred the paint with quick and precise motions.  
Akane closed her eyes as Ryo set to work again. The small brush rubbed her eyelids in concentric circles that moved outward to the edges, first the left and then the right. She then felt the brush touch her forehead, tracing a line down over each eyelid down to the rise of each cheek. Her lips came next, the brush applying the black paint on each one before stretching out on each side with slight upward curves.  
"Okay, I'm done."  
Akane opened her eyes, feeling the paints harden on her face as the air dehydrated them. Ryo handed her a small mirror, and she felt her stomach clench at the sight.  
It was just like the drawing she had seen, but in real life was much more terrifying. Her face served as a reminder of what she was, of what she had come here to do. But, she wanted to be HERE, with RANMA! She shifted her gaze from the mirror to Ryo's face, and decided to try one last gambit.  
Their lips met in a kiss; the smallest, yet in many ways most intimate, symbol of love. She felt the heat of him as the kiss continued, not caring at how unresponsive he was until the pain returned again.  
"Hey! You okay?" Ryo asked as she stumbled backward. No, it wasn't right. The kiss, the sudden feel of pain and disgust at herself, had cinched it. This wasn't right. She couldn't do this.  
"I..."  
"Akane?"  
"I have to go."  
"Akane, wait!" She paid no heed to his plea as she vaulted out the window, and into the cold and lonely night.

Ryo stared at the still-open window, a hundred emotions and twice as many questions storming throughout his entire being. Why had she kissed him? Who was she? Where was she going?  
And why had that kiss felt so wrong - and yet so right - at the same time?  
Whatever else, Akane Tendo was real, and he had to do some digging. Things were getting serious now, and he had to have some anwers before the questions drove him mad.

================================================ Part Six ================================================

"I can't have him." Those four words contained a myriad of emotions, yet did nothing to truly express any of them. The truth, that unfeeling bastard, was always painful in that it spared nothing. It refuted all lies and pretenses, leaving only cold hard fact in its wake. "I can't have him. Not like this."  
The wind had gradually gained strength over the past hour, a thin haze of drizzle soaking everything around in a blanket of despair. The bare limbs of the tree beneath which she sat moaned with the moving air, splashing her hair with bigger droplets of moisture.  
There were no tears, she had none left to shed. It was over. There was no way she could get back up. Ranma... Ryo... hadn't recognized her. He knew her name, but nothing else. Worse, he had been afraid of her. He had tried not to show it, but it had been plain. [Get up, Akane,] the Crow said from a tree farther ahead in the inky gloom.  
"No."  
[We are close. Get up.]  
"I can't. Just take me back now. I... I can't deal with this." [You will not surrender, Akane Tendo,] the Crow replied, its mental voice taking on a steely edge. [You are stronger than this. You surrendered once, do not do so again!] Akane merely remained silent, letting the rain come down on her head. [Ranma would not want you to give up. Now, RISE!]  
Akane felt her legs move of their own accord, as if she had no control over them. Against her will she took a step, then another, speeding into a jog and then breaking into a full-on sprint. She leapt over a small bench, clearing it with ease as the cold wind sliced through the wet trenchcoat and chilled her to the bone.  
"Where are you taking me?"  
[You will know when we arrive. It shall be soon.]

Akane came to a halt before a gravestone in the sea of the dead which people called a cemetary, one stone obelisk out of hundreds in the dark and wet night. The stone stood out from the others, radiating a sense of dreadful familiarity which made her stomach clench. This couldn't be it. No, it was impossible.  
[Look.]  
"I don't want to," she pleaded in a weak voice. "I don't want to see."  
[You must find the path again. This is the only way.] Lightning seared the night, casting the world in a glow of electric blue as the thunder shouted its challenge to the light. In the brief space of illumination, she saw the Hirigana text etched into the stone... Tendo.  
The drizzle grew into rain, beating against her back as she collapsed into a kneeling position before the stone of her family's grave. Fear tingled on her skin as she reached a tentative hand out to the stone.

My daughter's dead, what does it matter? Akane saw, felt, and lived the final days of Soun Tendo. The emptiness, the loneliness, the endless void where his heart used to be.  
Daddy, no, Daddy!  
She could feel his health, his vitality slip away with each passing moment as the world faded from focus, details washing into mush, hair going white, the schools won't be united now, my little girl's dead, what does it matter?

"AH!" Akane's eyes snapped open, a new wound slowly tearing open in her heart.  
"Daddy..." He had just wasted away, lost in his own sea of anguish. Ranma's killers had never been found, and she had been murdered, and everything just turned to shit. Ranma hadn't even been cremated to be in the Saotome tomb, his ashes scattered over the sea because the police couldn't positively identify his female body. Or what was left of it. And no one, not even his own mother, would claim the remains. Bastards.  
[There is more. Look again.]  
"I've seen enough."  
[No, you haven't. You've only just begun to see.]

She saw Kasumi in the flash that heralded the dream that was not a dream, alone in the house that was no longer a home, large and empty and so, so silent.  
Kasumi... Akane pleaded when she saw the lines that had formed on Kasumi's once flawless face, please forgive me.  
Alone, mourning, wounded, the state of the house reflecting the fading light in her heart until one morning... a missed step, a painful fall, then the sudden rush of a soul leaving the mortal world for the hereafter.  
NO! NO, PLEASE! Akane was forced to watch her sister's broken form at the bottom of the steps, neck bent at an unnatural angle, lying still as a stone for two, three, then four days before the smell prompted neighbors to call the police...

"KASUMI!" Akane's hoarse cry of tortured denial split the night in time with the next strike of heaven's fury, battling for dominance over the trailing thunder. Her very soul bled from the wounds of the past, the painful rents stealing her breath away as she looked at the stone one last time.  
Daddy. Kasumi. Nab... Nabiki?  
"Nabiki," Akane whispered, hope daring to blossom in her heart. "Nabiki's not here! Nabiki... Nabiki's ALIVE!" She shot to her feet, eyes locked on the shadowy blot of space that was the Crow. "WHERE IS SHE?!"  
[Come with me, Akane, and you shall see.] The Crow took wing, sailing into the growing downpour as Akane chased after. Nabiki was alive! She'd find her sister, and then things would get better! Nabiki was okay, she had to be!

The Crow left the cemetary, the pounding footfalls of Akane close behind. This would be the most difficult, most dangerous part. Hope, while much vaunted by poets and spiritualists, was a dangerous thing. When shattered, the soul could easily lose the will to go on or, on the other extreme, gain the will to fight against all odds when they realized that having nothing meant having nothing left to lose. It was a perilous gamble, but one the Crow had no choice but to take.

The rain was coming down hard when Akane reached the well-lit parking lot of Tokyo General Hospital, an almost solid sheet of water that pounded the earth without mercy.  
She stopped in the center of the torrent, gazing up at the patterns of lit windows as dread began to carress the edges of the hope that had given her strength. Why would Nabiki be in a hospital? Was she hurt?  
NO! she screamed at herself. Nabiki's NOT hurt! She just works there! Yeah, she's an administrator or something! She'd never be a doctor or a nurse, she has to be running the hospital!  
The Crow called to her from atop one of the several lightpoles which stood as silent sentries over the mostly empty parking lot, and her legs began to move again. Water splashed up from the ground as her feet slammed into the rapidly gathering puddles, soaking them through up to nearly her knees.  
The parking lot faded into the distance as she rounded the bend, coming up to the empty Emergency Ward. A single light shone above the glass doors, rain cascading down from the overfilled gutters. Without pause, Akane cleared the concrete deck elevated above the pavement and burst in through the doors.

The cool antiseptic air of the corridor instantly froze her drenched body as the stink of chemical cleaners assaulted her nose. Akane remembered in that moment exactly why she hated hospitals. They were for the sick, the dead.  
Well, hell, I should fit right in, she thought with no small amount of sarcasm. Oh, doctor, can you help me? HAH!  
The Crow perched on the empty receptions desk for emergency patients, the nurse on call conspicuously absent. Good. The fewer people who saw her, the better. It took flight again, racing down an adjacent hallway as Akane followed.  
They passed two banks of elevators, the dread tightening its grip around her hope. If Nabiki was in administration, wouldn't she be on one of the top floors? Well, maybe not, but it would make more sense.  
The Crow finally slowed, wings beating the air as its talons wrapped around the stainless steel handle of a nondescript door. Stairs? she thought as she closed her hand around the handle, the Crow leaping clear to land on her shoulder. Well, I suppose taking the stairs might make more sense than using the elevator in my case, she thought, fighting to keep hope strong.  
The Crow took off again, angling down the lower stairs instead of to the higher floors. Akane followed the bird down two flights of stairs to the bottom and through a door identical to the ones above. Akane followed the Crow to a set of nondescript double doors, each bearing that one unmistakeable word. Morgue.

Matsuhara Yotsuya hardly enjoyed his work. After all, who actually liked working with a bunch of stiffs? However, the portly twenty-two year old couldn't complain. The money was decent, and the job was actually rather easy. All he had to do was sit on his ass and catalogue whatever poor son of a bitch that came in on a stretcher to catch the last train west. He didn't even have to perform the autopsies, that was for the chief coroner.  
Sucking back the last of his Coke, Matsuhara reached for the okonomiyaki that had been delivered earlier. He had stopped wondering how he could eat while in the presence of so much death. Six months had pretty much innured him to it. In his estimation, he was used to just about anything that could come through those doors.  
A wet chunk of okonomiyaki flew from his lips like a cannonball, splattering against the wall at the sound of said doors flying open. Of all the nights to get someone in here. He turned around... to... oh, shit.  
She strode through the doors, tattered boots hitting the floor with a wet flop sound on each step. The black coat dripped water from outside, coal black hair beaten down and glistening from the storm. But her face, oh, Lord, her face!  
It was painted white, paler than any shade he had ever seen before. Large dark circles were painted over her eyes, with a vertical line running through each. The black color of her lips finished it, lending her the visage of a clown from hell.  
"What the?"  
A large black crow sailed in behind her, buzzing her head before coming to a halt atop one of the examination tables. The girl looked around as if she were confused beyond all hope, blank eyes scanning everything without really seeing it.  
Oh yeah, he thought, she's bloody stoned. From the look of her, he could have sworn that she was a corpse that had decided to hell with a gurney and walked in on its own.  
"Um... miss? C-can I help you?"

Akane gazed around the sterile room, her hope rapidly fading. Nabiki wasn't in here, she couldn't be. Not a chance. Right?  
Where is she?  
[Look.]  
Akane turned her head to the rows of metal doors that lined the wall to her right, and the hope quickly died. Almost of its own accord, her hand reached out to touch the nearest door. When nothing came, she moved to the next, and the next, and the...  
"NABIKI!" Akane stared at the fifth stainless steel door in the middle row, her entire being shaking in disbelief. The pain returned in full crippling force, and with it came the rage. With a yell of inhuman fury Akane grasped the sides of the door and ripped it from its hinges.  
"Hey, watch it!" Akane ignored the indignant voice from behind as the door slammed against the wall with a loud crash. White vapor escaped into the warmer air of the room as Akane grabbed the rolling platform and snatched it out.  
"Oh, no..." She would have been thrity-seven, yet her sister looked so much older. Nabiki's hair was matted and filthy, the deathly pale flesh marred with bruises and lesions from her face to below the line of the sheet. Those brown eyes, once so full of confident light, now stared up at nothing. "Nabiki... what happened?" Akane girded herself as best she could as her hands reached to cup her sister's head.

The pain, oh the never ending pain, day after day of torture and degradation in that dark cell. Akane saw it, felt it, lived it as her sister was suspended from the ceiling, bent over the rack, held bound and prone, and things beat her flesh and invaded her body, oh please make it stop make it STOP!  
Things being shoved into her that had to buisness there... and the question... like a litany. Beaten.  
"Where?"  
Violated.  
"Where?"  
Screaming.  
"Where!?"  
Crying.  
"Where!"  
Surrendering.  
"WHERE!?"  
Dying...

Akane screamed and pounded her head against the floor until phantom red fire trucks raced across her vision, sirens wailing. All she wanted was pain; pain and hate. Yes, hate. But never fear. Never, ever fear. Fear was for the enemy. Fear and steel.

Matsuhara stared in numb shock as the girl howled like a wounded and enraged animal, venting its fury to the world as she beat her head on the floor. With each blow the webwork of cracks in the tile grew, the sound of every strike a sickening thud. Blood began to spatter on the ruined floor as she kept up the beating. Oh, damn, this bitch was NUTS!  
She finally stopped on the tenth hit, her head remaining on the floor as she took breaths in deep sobbing gasps. Matsuhara stood stock still, unsure if he should move, and not certain he was able. Maybe she had knocked herself out?  
The head slowly rose, and he felt something warm and wet coat the front of his pants. The black on white makeup was now streaked with tendrils of red.

Akane rose from her knees, the pain in her head nothing compared to what raged in her heart. Daddy, Kasumi, Nabiki, Ranma, all of them dead. All because of... who? She couldn't see the face of the shadow, nor recognize its voice, but she knew that this was the one resonsible. This was the one who had started the ball rolling. And that was the one who would pay the dearest. But first, there was one last thing to do here.  
Gently, almost reverently, Akane lifted the stiff and cold body of her sister off the platform. Nabiki may not have been the best of people, but Akane still loved her unconditionally. She would not allow Nabiki to be buried by the state, to have her ashes scattered to the winds. No, Nabiki Tendo would be interred with her family.  
She spotted the mortician, or whatever he was, standing like a statue. The only thing moving was the stain on the front of his pants.  
"You."  
"H-hey, lady, I don't know her! I..."  
"Shut up. Where's your incinerator?"  
"What?"  
"Your incinerator. Where is it?"  
"It's.. it's in the back! Don't kill me!"  
"I'm not going to kill you. Now, take me there." The fat man turned smartly on his heel, obviously trying not to run as he lead the way to the incinerator.

"There," the man, Matsuhara he said his name was, said. "It's ready." She felt him stare at her forehead, the blood having vanished with the self-inflicted wound. Akane didn't care. The time when she was concerned with men staring at her body was long over.  
She placed Nabiki's body, she couldn't think of it as actually being Nabiki, on the conveyor belt which led into the inferno. The heavy iron door creaked open, blasting her with a wave of heat as the belt clanked into life. Akane watched as her sister's corpse was gradually carried into the fusion torch chamber before the door slammed shut once again.  
"Just a few minutes." Akane merely grunted in reply, memories of a happier time playing through her mind. A time when the world was painted in the colors of joy and the sun shone on the earth. That was a long time ago. It was another world. Another time.

"Done." Matsuhara moved to the other side of the machine, deftly flipping the switches that killed the hellish blaze within. He pressed a green-lit button on the panel, a nearly imperceptible noise coming from within the iron belly of the incinerator as the machine worked to scrape the cadaver's ashes into the funnel which led to the plain urn in the holding chamber on the outside of the machine.  
He shook despite himself, not quite willing to believe the girl's promise not to kill him. She was a freak if ever he'd seen one. There was no telling what she was hopped up on. Of course, that bit with the blood disappearing back into her head was a new one, but Matsuhara had no desire to learn how it was done.  
Come on, damnit! he thought, hurry up! The door finally popped open, revealing the simple silver jar in which the cadaver's ashes were now contained. Man, how was he gonna explain this? Pushing those thoughts aside, Matsuhara screwed the lid onto the jar and handed it to the woman.  
"Thank you," she said in a listless voice as she took the urn.  
"Hey, no problem." Bullshit, this was a HUGE problem. Maybe he should've been a salseman like his dad. Yep, life on the road looked real good right then. Matsuhara blinked his eyes, and then she was gone.  
"I need a vacation."

The rain had abated by the time Akane had arrived at the cemetary again, yet the wind still retained its strength. It whipped at her coat as she knelt before the family grave, biting into her flesh with spiteful teeth. Akane paid the cold no heed as she scooped the last handful of drenched earth over the urn. After patting it down, she reached for the crude wooden marker at her side. It wasn't much, but it was all she could find.  
She remained crouched before the grave for what felt like hours, staring at the buried remains of her family. This was all that was left of the Tendo family, four markers where their ashes lay. For a moment, Akane was curious if her own ashes were still buried. If she had a physical body, then maybe... No, best not think about that.  
"Akane, Ranma, you stay here with your mother." Akane looked up with a start at the sounds of those names coming through the night. "I'll just be a minute."  
"Be careful. You know how I worry when you go off alone."  
"Don't worry," the man's voice - why was it so familiar? - replied. "I'll call to you before I leave."  
Akane leapt back into the shadows as the Crow flew off in search of the voices. She saw them through its eyes, the images coming in sepia tones. He was very well muscled, the sport coat and slacks showing that nicely. His hair fell over a yellow-on-black striped bandanna, barely touching the deep brown eyes of a man she thought she'd never see again.  
"Ryoga?" Akane crouched behind one of the sparse trees in the cemetary, waiting for him to arrive. She knew where he was going.

Ryoga Hibiki walked through the drizzle, his umbrella keeping him mostly dry. It had been a long time since he had to worry about getting wet, but he still hated it. Several encounters with insane chefs had broken him from cold water a long time ago.  
He knelt before the Tendo monument, a place he knew by heart from his yearly visits, and clapped his hands twice before saying a prayer to the spirits of Akane, Soun, Kasumi, and Nabiki. He also said a second prayer for Ranma, the first having been performed at the Saotome tomb where only Nodoka was buried. Two lines gone from the face of the earth, such a pointless waste. Akari waited with their children, knowing full well why he was here without him ever having told her how much he had loved Akane, and understanding all the same.  
"Akane." The name of his first love. The first woman who had set his heart and soul aflame. Akane Tendo, who had loved him, but not as he wished. "I wish I could have avenged you. I wish I could have gotten my hands on Raizo Yamata. I wish... I wish..." Ryoga's voice broke as he fought against the tears, "I wish I could have protected you. You and Ranma."

Akane watched as Ryoga spoke into the night, her heart longing to comfort him.  
Silly Ryoga, she thought. So brave. So selfless.

He lost the fight, tears spilling down his cheeks. While his life was all he had wanted, peaceful, happy, and just plain damn wonderful, this would always remind him of how he had failed.  
"I'm sure you know this, but I married Akari Unryuu... Uh, Akari Hibiki now. Heh. We have two children, now. Took me long enough." Akane, who had been born first, and Ranma. Both named after his first love and greatest rival, who had met an ignomious end. "They're beautiful. Little Akane-chan, she reminds me so much of... of you..." Ryoga lost his battle against the pain as tears of regret streamed down his face.  
"She acts just like you. Little Akane-chan's so full of fire and spirit, but she's a bit too boy-crazy for my tastes," Ryoga added with a chuckle. "She's only thirteen. Guess it's just being a dad that makes me so nervous about that."

Akane watched the much older Ryoga, tears stinging her eyes. Not all was lost after all. Ryoga was still alive and, from what she could tell, happy. Who would have thought it? Ryoga Hibiki, the most depressed and melodramatic man she knew, the one to find true happiness. Life was funny that way...

"I wish you and Ranma were here, Akane," Ryoga said. "You'd love Akane and Ranma-chan. They're so damn cute..." A painful sob burst from his chest, the memories of the past twenty years bubbling up to the surface. "I... I loved you, Akane. I know I've said it for the past twenty years, but you were the first woman I ever loved.  
"Akari wants you to know that she misses you. She barely knew you, but... she's such a sweet woman. I love her as much as I loved you.  
"You'll never know how much those times meant to me, Akane. Those fleeting moments in your arms were the closest thing to heaven I'd ever felt. I just couldn't bear to tell you about the pig you held to your chest so many times. I couldn't tell you that I was your pet P-chan."

Akane felt her eyes widen at Ryoga's confession, the memories of holding her dear P-chan coming through the mists of time. All those nights, cuddling him... It was Ryoga?!  
"Ryyyooooggggaaaa..."

Ryoga whirled around at the sound of feet hitting the ground, an errant flash of lightning illuminating the intruder. Through the garish paint, Ryoga instnantly recognized who it was.  
"Ryoga, you jerk!"  
"GYYAAAH!" The world vanished into blackness as he fainted dead away. A ghost, he was seeing a ghost!

Akane looked down at the unconscious form of Ryoga Hibiki, the mist collecting on his body. The anger that had come from his revelation was rapidly fading. So he was P-  
chan, that was a long time ago. It hurt, but in light of the real pain she had endured, it was insignificant. But still...

Pain, loneliness, despair, lost in a wilderness he didn't understand. Akane saw Ryoga/P-chan collapse from the combined weight of his emotions before a pair of hands closed around him.  
"THERE you are, you silly pig!"  
Over time, the anguish lessened as Ryoga and Akari became closer until one perfect summer night beneath the stars, the warm breeze, the heady scents of Earth's bounty...

Akane released Ryoga's head, a faint blush coloring her features. She'd never thought of Ryoga _that_ way before, and his memories had been more vivid than she was comfortable with.  
At least it appeared as though Akari had had fun...  
Akane shook her head, trying to clear the images from her mind. His clothes were now drenched, yet he was still a man. He must have found the cure for his curse, then.  
"I forgive you, Ryoga," Akane whispered softly as she knelt next to him, laughing and crying all at once. It was strange, feeling such joy and sadness simultaneously, but in that conflict lay one simple truth.  
While her life had been strange - for want of a better term - she had been lucky. Even the pain and hardship, in light of what she now knew as real agony, seemed so sweet to her now.  
"I've been thinking about all this hell I'm in. I guess I forgot just how good my life really was." Akane bent down to plant a light kiss against Ryoga's wet cheek, her tears mingling with the rain on his skin.  
"Thank you, Ryoga. And don't worry, I'll avenge Ranma for you. I'll avenge everyone for you. I promise."

Ryoga awoke with a start, head whipping about in an attempt to find that... who was that, anyway? The cemetary around him was empty, the gravestones his only company.  
Had it all been a dream? He sat there on the drenched earth, trying to figure out what he had seen. Had it been Akane? Had it really been?  
"Ryoga!" Akari's sweet voice sliced through the night as the footsteps drew nearer. Ryoga rose to his feet, vainly trying to wipe the wet grass off his pants. It was a dream. Yeah, that was it.  
"Over here!"  
"Oh, I thought you'd gotten lost again!" Akari Hibiki came into view, her once girlish beauty having long since matured to that of a full woman. Little Ranma Hibiki's head rested against her shoulder beneath the canopy of the umbrella, his bottom supported by her arm. In her other hand was Akane Hibiki's, who sported her own umbrella and very stylish rainslicker.  
"Um, dad?" she asked, her nose scrunched up in that way she had when she was both curious and confused. "Why're you rolling around in the mud?"  
"I... uh... I just slipped, that's all."  
"Yeah, right, dad. How can a martial artist just lose his balance?"  
"The same way a precocious little teenager can lose her allowance for a month," he replied with a grouse.  
"Really, dear," Akari began with a giggle, "we should go. Ranma-chan's so sleepy."  
"Yeah. Yeah, let's go home."

Akane watched as Ryoga and his family left the cemetary, him holding his daughter's hand as she held Akari's. After all these years, he still got lost. The thought made her chuckle despite herself.  
Your children are beautiful, Ryoga, she thought. I'm honored that you named them after us.  
They vanished from view, swallowed by the night, and Akane turned her focus back to the job at hand. This was bigger than just herself and Ranma, much bigger. Others had suffered at the hands of this shadow, those she knew and those she did not. All their souls screamed for a reckoning, and Akane was the only one who could give it. She cast one last look in the direction Ryoga and his family had gone, and felt a tug on her heart.  
Be happy, Ryoga. Live the life Ranma and I never got to have. She violently squelched the irrational envy that welled up within her. She had no right to be jealous of Ryoga. Well, she did, but she wouldn't sink that low.  
[Are you ready, Akane?]  
"Yes." She seized the pain within her, letting it nurture her wrath. She was here to avenge the dead, not to bother the living. "Let's go. We have a little time to kill."

================================= Part Seven =================================

Yamato lay awake in the near total darkness, restless eyes searching the shadows above. He could feel his heartbeat thrumming in his back, a constant steady rhythm that only reminded him that sleep was not going to come easily. He shut his eyes against the dark, his mind racing.  
Genki. Yoshi. Both of them were dead, and Tetsuo claimed to have seen their killer. What did she want? Money? Drugs? Or was it something more than that?  
He turned over to his side, his mind awhirl with fear and doubt. Who was this woman? What had they done to her? Another blast of thunder ripped the night, reverberating in the air as his room was illuminated in the flash of lightning.  
Yamato's eyes snapped back open, a cold feeling settling in his gut. Something wasn't right, here. The sound reached his ears again, a steady thumping from beyond his door that sounded in time with his heartbeat. Slowly, he rose from beneath the thin sheet as his ears strained to sort out the sound from the low roar of the rain.  
It's her! part of him shouted. She's here! Gathering his resolve, Yamato reached into the drawer of the table beside his bed and pulled out the small Glock. The cold weight of the pistol was a comfort, helping to quell the irrational fear that fought to consume him. It was just a burglar, that's all. A burglar that was going to real sorry.  
Yamato opened the door slowly, the pistol held ready by his head. The constant thumping was louder now, coming from the left but not closer. He took a single breath before easing into the shadowed hallway.  
It's no burglar, he told himself, it's her. You KNOW it is.  
Yamato's skin crawled from the creeping terror. Why was she here?  
"Yamato..."  
That voice! The sound of his name floating toward him stirred distant, long-buried memories. That one day at Furinkan, just a scant week before graduation, when the news came of her death. The Nerima Slasher had struck again, and for what would be the final time.  
No! It WASN'T her voice! "Yamato... Come to me, Yamato..."  
Against his mind's ardent protests, his legs carried him forward, motivated by an unseen force. Ahead, the lights of his foyer flickered to life. She was here, and she was waiting...

"I've been waiting for this, Yamato." He gaped at the girl who stood by the far window of the foyer, back toward him. The coal black hair was drenched and filthy, a ragged black coat draping her body. It was one of Yoshi's, no doubt about it. The gun suddenly felt very heavy in his hand, his fingers uncurling from the grip just before it clattered uselessly to the floor. "You and I have much to talk about."

"Who are you?" The words came out as a terrified squeak, air scarecely able to escape his constricting throat.  
"You don't remember? I'm crushed."  
"You... you can't be..." She turned around, and Yamato nearly lost control of his bowels. The nightmarish paint on her face seemed to drain all the light in the room, forcing all focus on that horrible visage. Her eyes radiated agony and misery, rage and despair, pain and death.  
"I am vengeance given form," she growled as she took a menacing step forward. "I am all your sins remembered. I am..."  
"A... Akane Tendo?"  
"Got it in one. You did say it would come back to you someday, after all."  
"I... I..."  
"Are you ready?"  
"Please..." Yamato begged, tears welling in his eyes. "Don't kill me! I... I didn't do anything! I didn't want to hurt your girlfriend!"

Akane glared at the whimpering man before her, literally smelling his fear. Inside, amid all the raging emotions, she found the memory of him. She had seen him before, back in Furinkan. A spineless wimp who always let others push him around. She closed the distance between herself and Yamato, outstretched hand grasping his trembling head.

Another flash, and more agony as she felt the rape again. Akane was above it, below it, inside it as she saw Yamato standing off to the side, peeking around trees and tall shrubs for any sign of coming people. She felt his revulsion, his fear, his sadness as his friends degraded Ranma over and over and over...  
"Damnit, STOP YER FUCKIN' SCREAMIN'!" Tetsuo.  
"You wanna get us all busted?" Kazuo.  
"Bitch bit my fuckin' dick!" Yoshi.  
"Yamato, give me your headband." Genki.  
Akane watched as Yamato slowly removed the strip of white cloth from his head. She saw Genki take it before placing the knotted part between Ranma's teeth, tying the ends together. Akane tasted the sweat, the disgusting salt of human waste as the pain and humiliation welled up inside, never ending, why was this happening...

"You... Didn't hurt him?!" Akane glared at the still-quivering Yamato, the fading image of the past still lingering around the man before her. "You DARE tell me you didn't hurt him!"  
"I... I didn't rape that girl!"  
"No, you didn't," Akane conceeded, releasing her grip on his head. "You just stood

by and let it happen. Some man YOU are!" The storm of hatred grew inside her, sweeping Akane away on winds of pain as she sailed a kick into Yamato's midsection. He flew against the wall, slumping onto the floor with a low moan.  
"I..."  
"You what? Felt bad about it? Felt sorry for that poor redhead?"  
"I couldn't..." he managed with a wheeze. "I couldn't stop them."  
"You could have, Yamato," Akane replied, suddenly feeling a shred of pity for him. "What's worse, bad men who do evil, or good men who do nothing about it?"  
"Akane..."  
"You're going to die now, Yamato. I'll put an end to your guilt."  
"It wasn't my idea."  
"Shut UP! I don't give a damn if you didn't touch Ranma; you didn't stop it! You were THERE and you STILL just stood by and watched!" She grabbed Yamato by his unkempt hair, yanking him to his feet. "Ranma screamed, pleaded, BEGGED for them to stop! And still you did NOTHING! I'll ask you this just once. Why?"  
"Wha..."  
"WHY?! Why did you rape her?!"  
"Kazuo... said someone had paid him to..."  
"Someone... hired you?" Akane felt the world twist on its axis, her eyes widening in shock. This... She had never expected anything like what had just come out of Yamato's lips.  
"Kazuo said that someone paid him... us... to rape some girl. Genki, Yoshi, and Tetsuo were all for it. I..."  
"Who?" The rage consumed her emotions, casting the world in a red haze. Behind it

all there was someone on whom she could focus her pain. The shadow who had tortured Nabiki, who had violated her sister in every possible way, truly did exist.  
"I don't know. Kazuo never told us."  
"Where do I find Kazuo?"  
"He stays at a place called Maison Ikkoku."  
Akane released Yamato's hair, stepping away from his half-naked form. Kazuo... His leering face appeared in her mind, taunting her with her own failures.  
"First, I'll deal with you and Tetsuo. Then Kazuo. And after that..."  
"You're still going to kill me?"  
"Yes."  
"No, let me do it."  
Akane was taken aback at his statement, the look of resignation on his face pulling at what few strings were left in her heart as he slowly walked to the small door on the wall behind him.  
"It's only right this way. I don't want to die without honor."  
"Since when did you care about honor?" Akane spat.  
"Since after... that incident," he replied as he pulled the closet door open. "I've always been weak. Too spineless to stand up to anyone stronger than myself. Those days are over."  
"More than those days, Yamato."  
"Yeah, I guess so," he said with a rueful chuckle. He turned around, one hand bearing a short tanto dagger. The other held a simple katana, devoid of any decoration. He tossed the latter through the air, the hilted sword spinning twice in space before landing in Akane's hands. "I want you to be my second. I want to die with honor."  
She gazed at the sword, then at the stock-still form of Yamato standing across the room, and nodded. "Alright, Yamato. I'll let you face death with honor."  
"Thank you, Akane," he said, slowly kneeling on the floor.

Akane unsheathed the blade, the polished steel gleaming in the light. She ran her thumb down the length of the edge, feeling the metal bite through flesh to leave a thin trail of crimson along the blade. The sharp pain was exquisite.

Yamato knelt on the floor, the weight of the tanto in his hands a disturbing comfort. Twenty years of guilt, of sleepless nights thinking about the past, were now at an end. Two long decades of regret and sadness at his own weakness would no longer plague him.  
"One... one l-last thing?"  
"What is it?"  
"When you find the one who set it up, who hired Kazuo, you kill that bastard slowly."  
"I will."  
He felt Akane's presence behind him, felt the cold touch of the blade against the back of his neck, and his resolve nearly fled. NO! he screamed at himself. I will not back out now! If I've ever had any strength, I need it now!  
The white-hot pain exploded in his gut as the tanto entered, slicing skin and muscle before penetrating his stomach. The warm blood flowed over his hands, making the handle slick as he jerked it upward. The agony swallowed the world as his life faded, yet he was calm. When he stood in judgment, his honor would no longer be tainted. He would be free...

Akane stared down at the pool of cooling blood, the sword still held at the bottom of the downward stroke that had severed Yamato's head. A new sensation of pain tugged at her, a dull ache tinged with pity and a sense of relief. Akane knew she shouldn't feel such a thing, but she couldn't help the small tingle of respect for the dead man.  
He had always been one of those on the edge of her life, tangible, yet barely visible through the chaos that surrounded all who knew Ranma Saotome. Yamato, and those like him, were more like cardboard cut-outs than people; two-dimensional figures instead of living humans.  
Akane dipped her finger into the blood, her arm spreading the tepid fluid on its own. Nobody was as transparent as they seemed. Yamato had been a man she would never have bothered with before, and now she knew that despite his weakness, he had at least a small amount of honor. Life truly was funny that way.  
[Come, Akane,] the Crow's voice said, [the sun will rise before long.]  
"I know," she replied as she finished the symbol. She wanted this to be over. Every kill, every life taken by her hands robbed her more and more of her humanity. Akane felt as if she were losing herself, that she wouldn't care that these men were Ranma's killers. That scared her more than anything else.

"Another day, another yen," Soichiro muttered as he walked through the double-  
paned bullet proof glass doors of the Nerima Koban. The narrow lackluster walls greeted his eyes, dull despite the cleaning staff's most valiant efforts. Re-tiling the walls and floors of a small Koban office wasn't exactly top priority.  
His eyes passed over the uniformed men and women arriving for morning duty, exchanging half-hearted farewells with the departing graveyard shift. He ignored the passers-by until he spotted a man in a crumpled powder blue suit standing before the reception desk, a man Soichiro knew only too well. He made a beeline for the elevator, hoping against hope that the nosy reporter wouldn't see him.  
"Detective Otonashi!"  
Shit. He pressed the button for the lift, cursing the mechanism all the while.  
"What is it, Takasato?"  
"I'm glad I caught you, detective," Takasato said as he deftly maneuvered between Soichiro and the elevator.  
"So, the wife toss you out again?" Soichiro quipped, taking in the other man's disshevelled appearance.  
"I'll ask the questions here, detective."  
"Ask away, just don't expect an answer." What was taking this damn thing so long?!  
"Funny," Takasato replied in a voice that said he clearly wasn't amused.  
"I thought so."  
"Detective, two murders have been reported in the past two days. At each one, there was an unusual symbol."  
"Looks like you've been reading the papers."  
"Do the..."  
"Listen here, punk," Soichiro growled as the elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, "I have work to do. REAL work. You know damn good and well that I can't release details of a case still under investigation. Now if you don't mind..."  
"This isn't over!"  
"Yes, Takasato, it is." The doors closed behind him, and Soichiro breathed an irritated sigh. Reporters. Who needed them, anyway?

The elevator doors opened to reveal the offices of Nerima Homicide beyond; clusters of desks, offices, and the odd cubicle scattered about the available floor space. Soichiro moved through the bustle of investigators and gofers, blocking out the drone of voices and clacking keys as he forged his way to the office he and Akira shared.  
"Morning, sir."  
"Yeah," Soichiro replied, wondering if Akira ever slept. "Anything new?"  
"Yes, quite a bit. We have another murder."  
"Great." Soichiro draped his coat over the rack, grimacing at Akira's announcement. "Who is it this time?"  
"Yamato Kitaki, another of the Fab Five," Akira said as Soichiro filled his cup from the coffee machine. The younger man slid a picture across the desk, and Soichiro shook his head at the sight. Yamato's headless corpse lay in a pool of blood, and around it was painted their killer's trademark.  
"What do we know?" He flopped into his chair, taking a sip of the scalding black liquid.  
"It was sepukku, sir."  
Soichiro's eyebrows perked up at the word sepukku, his skeptical nature analyzing the information.  
"You certain?"  
"The coroner confirms it. Yamato disemboweled himself, and our girl finished him off."  
"This just doesn't ring right, Akira."  
"I know that, sir. If this was to regain honor in the eyes of the Yakuza, then why would she have been there?"  
"Maybe she just set it up to look like sepukku?"  
"We don't know, sir. There WERE signs of a struggle, but the physical evidence on the body doesn't suggest that he was forced, nor did we find any foreign chemicals in his bloodstream."  
"Then how could she have gotten him to do this?"  
"Your guess is as good as mine, sir."  
"Anything else?"  
"Yes, sir, and this is rather intriguing." Akira paused for a moment, as if he wasn't sure how to proceed.  
"Well?" Soichiro asked as he raised the cup to his lips.  
"We may have our suspect on videotape."  
Soichiro voilently expelled his second slug of the coffee, the beverage splattering across the worn beige carpet. "WHAT?!"  
"At one-fifteen a.m., she turned up at Tokyo General Hospital's morgue. Still alive, of course."  
"Show me the tape."  
Akira pressed a sequnce of keys on Soichiro's terminal, the video logs from the morgue starting as the man circled around to take a seat on the corner of the desk. The image flickered into focus, showing the mortician on call sitting at his desk. The doors flew open, and the image froze on the face.  
"Holy shit...," Soichiro gasped. The makeup conspired to give her the appearance of a demonic mime, pitch black on porcelain white.  
"We ran the face through our databanks, and look what we turned up," Akira said as the image of her face expanded to fill the right half of the screen. On the left half appeared the matching face. Even without the makeup, Soichiro knew it was the same.  
"Let me guess," he said, "Akane Tendo?"  
"Yes, sir. The fingerprints support it as well."  
"What the hell is going on? Is she obsessed with something?"  
"Behavioral Science is going apeshit over it, sir, not to mention forensics. She steals a dead girl's identity, down to her face and fingerprints. Nobody's ever seen anything like it."  
"Why was she there?"  
"Watch this, sir." The two images vanished, the display from the morgue taking the screen again as the image unfroze.  
"Miss? C-can I help you?" The woman - Soichiro couldn't reconcile her as the late Akane - ignored him as she began touching the drawers along the wall. From out of the camera's view, a large black crow flew into the scene.  
"The hell is that bird doing there?"  
"Kaneda has a theory about that," Akira replied. "Just watch."  
Soichiro stared in confused amazement as the girl felt the drawer hatches on the body compartments, her eyes shut in concentration. When she touched a certain door, she recoiled as if she had been bitten. With a scream of inhuman fury, she ripped the hatch off its hinges, the door sailing toward the camera until the image suddenly transformed into static.  
"She destroyed the surveillance camera with that door," Akira said. "I don't even want to know how she managed to tear it off like that."  
"I don't, either," Soichiro replied, trying to suppress the sudden cold emptiness in his gut. "Have we identified the body?"  
"Yes, sir. The body is that of one Nabiki Tendo."  
"Up until a couple of days ago, the lone survivor of the Tendo family," Soichiro said, recalling the case still under investigation by another homicide team.  
"And the late Akane Tendo's older sister."  
"Big surprise there. I want all the information Keiko and Ryu have on Nabiki's murder."  
"I've already taken the liberty, sir," Akira replied. "Nabiki Tendo, age thirty-seven, was found in a dumpster on Michako Avenue in the red light district. According to the autopsy, she was systematically tortured before death. Probably for as long as a few months. The state was to bury her."  
"Good Lord." How could anyone do such a thing? "So we have a girl pretending to be Akane Tendo, supposedly returned from the grave after two decades, who is killing Yakuza hitmen and leaving a bird symbol behind. And now she steals the body of Akane's sister... what's the connection?" Soichiro swivelled around to face Akira, whose face was somewhat pale from the video. "What does Kaneda have?"  
"This is where it gets interesting, sir," he answered. "The bird symbol is actually a crow."  
"Like the one on that security tape. Why do I suddenly have a bad feeling about this?"  
"The symbol can be traced back to the Crow Nation, a Native American tribe. There's a legend about it..."

People once believed that, when someone died, a crow would carry that soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes, something so bad would happen, that a terrible sadness was carried with it and the soul could not rest. Then sometimes the crow could bring that soul back to put the wrong things right.  
Kodachi Kuno mulled over the ancient legend as she stood before her prized roses, each one black as midnight. The morning sun poured through the transparent glass of the greenhouse, the humid conditions nearly stifling as the light gained strength. She often sought solace amidst the beauty of the flowers, yet now found only doubt and uncertainty.  
Could it be true? Could that slut truly have the power to return from the dead? Or was it just some hoax? A ploy by another Gumi to unsettle her mind in an attempt to overthrow her? It certainly seemed logical.  
But still... Kodachi carefully cradled the dark rose between her fingers, avoiding the thorns as she rolled the stem around in her grasp. What if it was real? The video from the morgue had been unnervingly convincing. Her network of informants and servants was unparallelled, far superior to anything that other conniving Tendo girl could have worked up. If it was just a hoax, then why steal that scullery maid's corpse?  
I am coming...  
Kodachi's hand jerked as a thorn pierced the skin of her thumb. She removed the offending spike, a tiny bead of crimson blood forming on the skin. She stared at it as the drop slowly grew before falling from her skin from its own weight.  
Perhaps I shall have the dojo watched, she thought as she sucked the blood off her thumb. That... edifice... still stood due only to her own intervention. It remained as an eternal symbol of the man she loved, its decay that of those who had fought to keep him away from her. If this truly was Akane, then that is where she would roost.

The library was a place Ryo Suzaku had visited often during the course of his studies. It was quiet, serene even, a place where he could do his work without interruption. He often found solace among the books and datatracks.  
Now, though, he found no such thing.  
The computer hummed quietly to itself as Ryo manipulated the search program, typing in the parameters that would narrow down the results he sought. Last night had been so confusing, terrifying even, that he couldn't return to sleep afterward. For hours he had lain awake in his bed, the lingering touch of Akane's lips still on his.  
Who was she? Why had she seemed so familiar? And why had he painted her face? Why had she let him? The answers remained just out of his reach, tantalizing him with realization while dancing clear of his questing mind.  
It was time to fix that.  
The search results came back almost immediately, filling the screen with line after line of hyperlinked text related to the name Akane Tendo. Ryo scanned the list, marking off the pornographic results immediately. Wow, a lot of girls named Akane posed for adult pictures...  
His eyes fell on a link to a news article from the Tokyo Herald, the description stating in bold text "NERIMA SLASHER STRIKES AGAIN! YOUNG GIRLS ACROSS NERIMA ARE TERRIFIED AS ANOTHER DIES BENEATH HIS BLADE!" The words grabbed at him, his eyes reading them again and again. The Nerima Slasher, he remembered hearing stories about Nerima's first, and thankfully only, serial killer. Hadn't the police caught him, though? With morbid curiosity, Ryo clicked on the link.  
The article appeared within moments, a facsimile of the front page story filling the screen. Ryo scanned the text, filling him in on the killer's exploits before that point. As if the people at the time had really needed a reminder that a psycho was out stalking women. "The killer, named the Nerima Slasher, has taken a tenth victim last night. This morning, the bisected body of Akane Tendo was found outside her home at..."  
Ryo's heart froze at the name, the rest of the words becoming blurred as he scanned down the page to the picture of the girl. Oh, no, this can't be! The eyes, the hair, the pert nose, shy smile, oh, God it was HER! Ryo scrolled back up to the top, searching anxiously for the date the article had been written, finding it just above the headline; April 22, 2000.  
This wasn't possibe! If this was right, and Ryo knew that it was, then Akane Tendo had died twenty years ago. How could she have been in his room? Why was he dreaming about her? Why did he feel this way?  
What the hell is going on?!  
"Are you okay, young man?" Ryo jumped at the sudden voice from behind, whirling around to find the librarian behind him. Her almond hair was pulled up in a bun atop her head, kindly eyes staring out from behind thin-rimmed glasses. "Yes! Yes, I'm fine, ma'am."  
"How many times have I told you, Ryo, call me Sayuri."  
"I'm sorry ma... Sayuri."  
"Apology accepted," she replied with a small grin. "What are you studying... oh, my..."  
"It's for a... class project," Ryo stuttered, desperately trying to explain why he was looking at a twenty-year-old article about a serial killer. His stream of babble halted when he saw the tears gathering at the corners of Sayuri's eyes. "Is something wrong?"  
"Oh, no. I'm alright."  
"Are you certain, Miss Sayuri?"  
"Yes, I'm fine."  
"No, you ain't." Ryo started at his own lack of grammar, feeling it come on again. Sayuri turned to stare at him, an odd look in her eyes.  
"Excuse me?"  
"You wanna talk about it?" Why am I talking like this again?  
Sayuri paused for a moment, regarding him with a strange look before answering.  
"Yes, I suppose I would. Come to my office, Ryo."

The day was absolutely perfect in every respect. The infinite blue of the heavens was unmarred by clouds, the sun resting amidst the heavens in all its glory.  
Akane stood by the outer wall of Furinkan High, staring at Ranma with a mixture of confusion and irritation sprinkled with anticipation. The latter merely stood there, fidgeting nervously while staring at his feet.  
"Well, what do you want, Ranma?"  
"I just wanted to... well... since it IS Valentine's Day, after all, and..."  
"Yes?" Was this it? "I just wanted to say... that... aww... here!" Ranma's hands thrust out from behind his back, a heart-shaped piece of paper in his trembling hands.  
"For... me?" Akane's heart leapt in joy. Such a simple gesture, and yet it was so damn hard for Ranma to do. With unsteady hands she took the card from Ranma, opening the valentine to the hand-scrawled message...

Akane thought about that valentine so long ago, the line between past and present blurring for a brief moment. Part of her wished that some kind of hole would open in the universe, allowing her to step back into that simpler time. Back to that perfect day when Ranma had finally admitted his feelings for her.  
Two days before he died, and her spirit with him.  
If only she had known, she could have stopped it! Even with Ranma drugged, Akane could have fended off five men with ease. She had beaten the crap out of many more than that on a daily basis before Ranma had come.  
[Do not think of this. That which is done cannot be undone.]  
"Yeah." The Crow was right. She couldn't go back in time to stop it. All she could do was punish those responsible. That was why she was here. And that was what she would do.

======================================= Part Eight =======================================

Soichiro Otonashi never believed in coincidence. Everything happened for a reason and was connected to something else. The only problem was finding out how.  
He looked at the old file before him - the original hard copy rather than the digital version - and his mind took a trip down memory lane. It had been his first homicide, way back when he had first earned his gold shield.  
The Nerima Slasher had been big news at the time, and with good reason. A small, quiet burg like Nerima had never seen a serial killer before. Such a thing could rock a place like that to its foundations.  
He gazed at the pictures of the bodies, clipped to the autopsy reports of each victim. The method was always the same, a diagonal slash from the left collarbone all the way to the right hip that cleaved the poor girls in two. The Kesa Stroke, that was the name of the so-called "technique", was an old Samurai schtick. It was said that the warriors of long ago could do things like that. Modern forensics, however, had much different ideas. It would take someone unbelievably strong to slice someone in half like that in one clean swipe.  
He then looked at the mug shot of the accused, one Raizo Tanaka. An anonymous tip had lead him to the suspect's apartment, and what they had found had shocked and appalled every cop present. They had found newspaper clippings of the Slasher's crimes from every paper in Tokyo. Stashed away in an old strongbox had been photos of each and every victim; school pictures sprinkled with candid shots of the victims leading their lives. Also they had found photos of girls who were still alive, very damn likely his next targets. All of this was damning enough, but that sword had been the clincher. Hidden behind old clothing and sports equipment in Raizo's closet had been a katana, its edge covered in dried blood.  
At the time, Soichiro had been repulsed and enraged. He hadn't stopped to acknowledge that gnawing sensation in his stomach that insisted that something just wasn't right.  
The sword had been tested, and the results showed that it was not only human blood, but the DNA test confirmed that it had once flowed through the veins of Akane Tendo. Microscopic bits of flesh and bone were caught in the nicks of the blade, along with Raizo's prints on the handle.  
Only after the case had gone to trial had Soichiro begun to suspect that something was wrong with the whole thing. True, there had been enough evidence in Raizo's apartment for any jury on the planet to convict, but the entire setup had seemed planned in hindsight.  
Raizo had undergone intensive psychiatric exams before and during the trial in an attempt to find out why he had done it. In fact, a highly recommended analyst from the FBI had been loaned to them to give her own slant. Her analysis had been inconclusive, as were those of some of the other headshrinkers.  
That alone had not shown Soichiro much, but on re-examining the pathology reports, something clicked. The Kesa Stroke would have required enormous physical strength, more than Raizo appeared to have. Lastly, Raizo had been by no means a martial artist. He'd never even taken a karate class, so how could he have used a katana so well?  
Those, however, had been only nagging doubts, and nowhere near enough to save Raizo Tanaka. The courts had tried and convicted him in only three days. Even if Soichiro had had enough to keep the case open, it wouldn't have happened. The Nerima Slasher had been the most high-profile murder case in Tokyo and Nerima Homicide's reputation had been on the line, not to mention his own career. Raizo Tanaka, whether guilty or innocent, had been doomed the second that anonymous phone tip had come in.  
"Find anything?"  
"Nothing useful, Akira," Soichiro replied, rubbing his eyes from the strain of keeping them on the tiny typeset used on any government or law enforcement document. "Unless Akane Tendo managed to somehow come back from the dead, then I'm stuck. Have you..."  
"I already have men looking for Tetsuo Takamatsu, sir. We have yet been unable to locate Kazuo Mizaki. If our suspect is following the patterns of the other two incidents, she'll go after one of those two next."  
"Make sure we don't lose sight of them," Soichiro said. "I want this girl taken in." Those pencil-pushers upstairs are giving me enough shit, he added silently.  
"Yes, sir."

Sayuri Takagami's office was tiny, yet highly organized. The small space gave Ryo the impression of a woman who wanted everything in its proper place at all times, someone who loved order above all else. The furniture was standard fare, not uncomfortable but far from pleasant to sit in for an extended period of time. His Psych teacher would have probably called her a control freak, perhaps stemming from an experience of utter chaos in her younger years.  
"I suppose you want to talk about my reaction to the material on your terminal." It wasn't a question, and Ryo knew it. They both knew why they were in that office on some level or another.  
"Yeah."  
"I know you have questions, Ryo. Go ahead and ask."  
Ryo studied her face for a moment, the lines at the corners of her eyes suddenly deeper than they were in the library proper, the look of resignation in her eyes, and spoke.  
"Did you know that girl?"  
"Yes, Ryo, I did." Sayuri's breath hitched slightly as she spoke, her fingers absently twitching on the surface of her desk. "She and I were friends all through our time in Furinkan."  
"Where?"  
"Furinkan High School. It's in Nerima, where she and I grew up. As I recall, it's doing much better than when I was there."  
"Was it a violent school?"  
"Well... Yes and no. Let's say it was a very strange place in my day."  
"How so?" Ryo's interest was definitely piqued now.  
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."  
"Try me." You won't get off the hook that easy.  
"Well, there was a student there by the name of Tatewaki Kuno. He was a Kendoist, and a very skilled one at that."  
"Go on." What did this Kuno guy have to do with Akane? And why was that name also familiar?  
"Well, he had a crush on the girl in that photo. Her name was Akane Tendo. Well, it was more of an obsession, really."  
"Really?" Ryo's mind began to race, frantically trying to put the puzzle together. Kuno was obsessed with Akane, was a martial artist... he had a bad feeling about this.  
"You have to understand that Akane was also a martial artist. I think her school was Anything Goes."  
"What kind of style was that?" He'd never heard of any such style before.  
"Just trust me. Anyway, she was the only person in school who could beat Kuno consistently.  
"One day, Kuno sent out a challenge that only one who managed to beat Akane in a fight could go out with her."  
"Boy, he had to have been a moron," Ryo chortled. "Who would have taken him up on that?"  
"Nearly every male student at Furinkan," Sayuri replied with absolute seriousness.  
"You're joking." Was any of this true, or was Sayuri just yanking him off? The rational part of Ryo dismissed the librarian offhand. That part, however, hadn't been winning many arguements lately.  
"I know how it sounds, but this is all true. I could hardly believe my own eyes when I saw all those boys go at Akane the very next day." A small smile formed on Sayuri's lips at the memories of a much more innocent time as she went on. "I was even more amazed when Akane mopped the campus with each and every one of them."  
"Now I know you're kidding," Ryo said in disbelief. Somewhere inside, however, he had to wonder if she was indeed telling the truth.  
"Think what you want to, Ryo, but she was one of the best I'd ever seen. Then came Ranma..."

Ryo walked out into the fading light, faintly surprised that he had spent a whole afternoon talking with the librarian. The sky was painted a fiery gold by the setting sun, awash with brilliant colors as if it were making the most dramatic exit it could before the moon took the stage.  
Most of Sayuri's revelations were, to be blunt, ludicrous. A man who could do even half the things that Ranma could do had to have been a holy terror. While the details of his exploits had been a bit vague, Sayuri having heard it from Akane after the fact nearly each time, Ryo had to wonder if the woman had picked up some very warped manga from somewhere. None of that could have really happened!  
But her description of him fit what Ryo had seen in his dreams; the hair, the eyes, the build, everything had been exactly as he had seen. Ranma had been Akane's fiancee.  
There was no telling how much of Sayuri's story was true - likely it was a big hoax - but there was only one way to find out for sure. It was a longshot, but also his only shot.

The stench of stale cigarette smoke permeated the air of the small bar in which Tetsuo Takamatsu sat. The dim lights deepened the shadows that lurked in every corner, patches of darkness to which his eyes kept darting back and forth. He vaguely heard the clack of billiard balls on the old table behind him, the scotch having taken the edge off his usually keen hearing.  
This has got to stop, he told himself. She's just a fucking girl!  
A girl who casually kicked the living shit out of him just the night before.  
Tetsuo stared blankly at the empty tumbler before him, considering the benefits of ordering another, when a full glass suddenly plonked down next to it. He looked up at the barkeep, a pale-faced man he had never seen before.  
"From the lady at the end of the bar," he said, pointing to Tetsuo's right. Foreboding looming in his gut, Tetsuo looked over.  
There she sat, one leg crossed over the other on the farthest barstool. In her hand was a full glass of amber liquid, Yoshi's coat flowing down almost to the floor. What drew his gaze first, however was her face. The black-on-white paint seemed to radiate menacing mirth, the cheshire grin on her face not even coming close to her eyes. With a conspiritorial wink, she hoisted her glass in a mock toast before downing the contents.  
Tetsuo's blood instantly turned to ice, all warmth seeming to have fled the room in the face of what was to come. The girl filled his vision, demanding all his focus as she languidly stepped off the stool.  
Just a woman, Tetsuo told himself again, just a woman!  
"She says it's time, boy." The gravelly voice exploded in his head, shattering the trance as he swivelled around to face the bartender.  
If Tetsuo had been a Christian, he would have invoked the name of God. The barkeep's face melted before his eyes, leaving only polished white bone in its wake. Deep black sockets were all that remained of his eyes, a void which held a hate greater than any

he had ever seen before. "I say it is, too."  
The scream ripped forth from Tetsuo's chest, a sound of unimaginable horror that filled his ears as he sprang back from the barstool. In an instant, the world had lost all cohesion and terror threatened to take control.  
"Leaving without saying goodbye?" Her face filled his vision just before his feet left the floor.

Akane felt the hate swell in her breast, lending her its power as she sailed Tetsuo over the bar. His body slammed into the rack of liquor bottles behind, a symphony of shattering glass and snapping wood rising upward in the stale air as he tumbled to the floor. The smell of rice wine and sour mash whiskey mixed with the other liquids, forming a pungent aroma of disgrace and fear as she slowly walked toward the bar. There was no mercy in her stride, no pity in her heart. This... man... had to die for what he had done, both to her and to Ranma.

Tetsuo snapped his eyes open, the feel of the glass in his back bringing him back into focus. He seized the pain, using it to dispel the haze of rampant fear in his mind. The bitch was back, and she was playing for keeps. He looked up beneath the countertop, smiling as he seized the cold plastic handle. If this slut wanted to play hardball, then that was just fine.  
Play it cool, he said to himself, don't get up too fast. Wincing from pain that he didn't have to exaggerate, Tetsuo slowly rose to his feet. He heard the approaching footsteps; slow, measured thumps on the stained floor that drew ever nearer. He counted each step, waiting for just the right moment to strike. Then came a quick rustle of fabric, followed immediately by the sound of feet landing on the bar.  
NOW!  
In one fluid motion, Tetsuo brought the sawed-off shotgun to bear, whispering a silent prayer of thanks that the owner kept one despite the law. Time slowed to a crawl in the space between thought and execution, the whore's eyes widening in stunned surprise as the barrel stopped mere centimeters from her chest, his finger applying pressure to the trigger before the explosion ripped through the air.  
Her coat fluttered from the impact, the remains of the tattered shirt beneath catching fire from the shotgun's muzzle flare as a spray of blood and flesh rained outward. Her feet left the stained formica countertop as she flew backward to land in a smoking heap on the floor a good meter away.  
Tetsuo stood behind the bar for a moment, the stink of the cordite overpowering the odor of mixed booze and his ears ringing from the blast. The girl lay unmoving on the floor, the ghastly wound thankfully hidden from his view. The mute shock gradually lifted, and he felt a sense of victory wash over him with a joyous yell.  
"YEAH, BITCH!" he screamed at the corpse, "THAT'S WHAT YOU GET! THAT'S WHAT YOU GET, YOU FUCKING CUNT!" Tetsuo continued shouting obscenities at her, not caring that she couldn't hear, as he stepped from behind the bar and walked toward her. He stopped just in front of her head, tapping it with the shotgun's barrel when her hand suddenly gripped the steel.  
"The FUCK?!" Tetsuo's heart skipped several beats at the sight of her hand moving, her head then rising up to stare at him. Her eyes beamed despair and death into his own before the gun was snatched from his lifeless hands.  
Abject horror kept him rooted to the spot on which he stood as she rolled away and came to her feet. Through the charred shreds of the once-grey top he could see her pert, snow-white breasts exposed to the open air. Not a single mark marred her skin, save for a long scar that ran the valley between her mounds and vanished beyond the hole.  
"Like what you see, you pervert?!" The click-clack of the shotgun being pumped for another round snapped his eyes back to her face, and Tetsuo felt warm urine soaking the front of his pants. This... this was... IMPOSSIBLE!  
"How in the hell did you do that?" He'd blasted her, and it didn't look like she had been wearing any armor.  
"It'll take more than a gun to get rid of me, Tetsuo," she snarled, jerking the weapon to his left. "Go. Now."

"All units report to Fifteenth and Jingoku, shots fired."  
"Unit Fourteen en route. ETA five minutes." Patrolman Kai Yamazaki gunned the engine of his small patrolcar, engaging the lights and siren as he dodged the traffic. Probably some idiot who had gotten an illegal firearm had decided to be big and bad at one of the bars in the area. And people said that guns could be safe...

Tetsuo stepped out onto the roof, the events of the past few minutes still swirling in his brain. He had shot her, point blank, with a shotgun. He had seen the blood flying, her hitting the floor. The only evidence of the blast had been her ruined shirt. Now she had the gun, and he was on the business end of it. Of all the ways he thought he would go, he never once considered being executed by some bitch who just wouldn't die.  
"That's far enough."  
Tetsuo stopped near the lip of the roof, close enough to see the pavement below. The building in which the bar was situated was a three story affair in one of the less attractive parts of Tokyo, along the border with Shinjuku. Around him the night was mostly silent, people hardly ever passing through after dark. A few stray cars streaked past on the thoroughfare, not even slowing to acknowledge what few punks loitered on the sidewalks. He suddenly found himself wishing that he was in one of those right now.  
The fluttering of wings reached his ears as the crow flew past, settling atop a defunct television antenna and fixing him with it's intense gaze. It cawed at him once, the outstretched wings making it look larger than it actually was.  
"Turn around."  
Tetsuo obeyed, slowly rotating on her command. For a brief moment, he was torn between fear and humiliation at being this bitch's lap dog. She stood in front of the door, Yoshi's coat cinched to cover her breasts. In one hand was the shotgun, in the other a sword that was very familiar.  
"Yamato?" He suddenly felt very ill.  
"We've met." She raised the sword, stabbing it through the door behind her. The tip protruded through the brick on the side as if it were as thin as the door itself. She then tossed the shotgun toward him, the weapon skidding to a stop halfway between them.  
"The cops are gonna come any minute..."  
"Shut up."  
Tetsuo's lips sealed themselves, as if he had no control over them anymore.  
"You think you're a martial artist, so I'll let you try to prove it. That gun has one round left. If you get it, you've got a chance to escape. If I get it..."  
"What's the point?" Tetsuo asked, fighting to get the words out.  
"The point is that I'm giving you a fighting chance to leave with your life. A fair chance, too."  
"What's so damn fair?! I already shot you..."  
"I didn't say you could kill me, damnit!" she screamed. "Just that you have the chance to fight for your life. Nothing more." With that, she assumed a battle stance. Tetsuo followed suit, attempting to clear his mind. This was it, then, the most important fight of his life.

Akane forced all thoughts out of her head, focusing only on Tetsuo Takamatsu. She was at last in her element, a true fight. Nothing like the three men before, whom she had killed mostly without preamble, but a real challenge delivered as the martial artist she truly was. The world attained crystal clarity in her mind, every detail coming through perfectly. It was just like riding a bike, she had never forgotten how.  
[Finish this quickly, Akane,] the Crow said, [people are coming.]  
With a fierce battle cry, Akane charged forward. Tetsuo lunged at the same time, the two drawing ever closer to each other and to the prize. She met him atop the waiting gun, and the battle began in earnest.  
Punches and kicks were exchanged and parried as the two danced, each seeking a weakness in the other's defense. Tetsuo was good, she had to give him that, but it wouldn't stop her. She would win this fight, no matter what it took. A shot to the head, the arm overextended just a bit, and Tetsuo's arm snapped like a dry twig. His scream re-ignited the fury in her heart, the wounded howl reverberating in the concrete trenches of the city before a savage backhand shattered his jaw like glass.  
"Looks like I win, Tetsuo," she said, staring down at his broken form. His eyes locked with hers, the fear coming from them palpable. "You can't say I didn't give you a chance." She knelt beside him, the fingers of her hand closing around his head. "I want to show you something."

Tetsuo felt her hand clasping his head, her words echoing in his ears as he entered a place between dreams and nightmares. He felt the despair, the loneliness that made the pain in his arm and jaw seem as nothing. The feelings invaded his heart and soul, the rape, the aftermath on this girl who was named Akane Tendo, and he suddenly knew.  
Please, Kami-sama, NO! Cold numbness engulfed him as he tried to refute the truth. His time had come.

A scream remained firmly lodged in his throat as Akane hoisted him off the roof, his limbs refusing to move as if their connections to his brain had been severed.  
"When you get to hell," her voice said, "tell them who sent you."

Kai Yamazaki parked his patrolcar outside the Animal House, one of the seedier bars to have cropped up in recent years, and waited. He was the first on the scene, and would wait for backup before answering a shots fired call. Police procedure hadn't been written for nothing, after all.  
Looks clear, he said to himself as he exited the car. A few straggling punks and misfits stood around, eyes firmly fixed on him, yet none would openly challenge him. The police had much more freedom concerning the use of their firearms than they once did, and everyone knew it.  
"Unit Foutreen, on scene. Awaiting backup."  
"Copy, Fourteen. Backup ETA one minute."  
Kai felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck come to attention, the scent of ozone teasing his nose. More lightning was coming soon. He hadn't seen weather this bad in...  
He didn't know what made him look up, but the sight would never leave him. The form plummetted from the roof of the Animal House, growing dramatically as it dropped. Kai backed away from the car, his eyes following the body's trajectory as it slammed into the roof of his car. The glass shattered from the impact, the car's lightbar crushed with the rest of the roof.  
Slowly, tentatively, Kai stepped over the shards of glass and studied the corpse atop his vehicle. He recognized the face instatnly.  
"Unit Fourteen to Dispatch. Cancel the ambulance, and alert Homicide."  
"Copy, Fourteen."

Akane yanked the sword free from the door, resheathing it in one fluid movement. Conscious thought was gradually returning to her mind as the combat high ebbed, leaving her drained and empty within.  
Tetsuo had been a decent fighter, there was no doubt about it, but in the end he hadn't measured up. There was no chance that he - even with his four friends helping - could have subdued Ranma like they had.  
Unless he had been drugged.  
Akane stood motionless atop the roof, rain beginning to drizzle from the oppressive clouds once more as she finally realized what had been right under her nose the whole time. The coldness in Ranma's blood when she relived his fate, the weaakness in his limbs, the ease in which they had their way with his female form, he had been poisoned!  
By whom? Akane could think of only two, and neither could have been responsible. Cologne, sneaky old ghoul she was, wouldn't have had anything to gain from it. Kodachi, delusional and conniving, simply couldn't have gone so far. None of her tricks had been fatal. Could someone have tried to frame either with Ranma's murder? She looked to the Crow, who launched itself into the night.  
"Stop thinking about this, Akane," she told herself. "Just find Kazuo. He'll know who's behind it all." She reached into the inside pocket of the coat, fingers closing around the small zippo lighter within. It wouldn't be long, now.

"It's done, Mistress Kodachi."  
Kodachi Kuno made no reply, staring out from behind the tinted partition that separated the rear of the car from the front. Her gaze regarded the decrepit Tendo Dojo with hateful contempt, the structure hulking in the wet gloom.  
Briefly, she wondered if such measures were truly necessary. After all, this could all be some strange hoax, either aimed at her or not. Perhaps it was one of Akane's ilk from Furinkan, taking the harlot's guise and murdering Kodachi's own. If that was true, then why them? Nobody knew the truth behind the red-haired whore's sudden and violent demise save for her and Kazuo, and he had told no one. She would know if he had.  
There were no such things as coincidence. Whoever this commoner was would pose her no further problems. Adjusting her lithe frame in the soft leather of the seat, Kodachi awaited her prey's arrival. She would soon kill two birds with but one stone.

Kazuo had heard the report on the police scanner he kept in his apartment and knew that one more of his number was dead. The Animal House had been Tetsuo's favorite hangout, though Kazuo could scarcely fathom why.  
But that didn't matter. He was next.  
He brought the car to a halt before the stoplight, just one more motorist in an entire ocean of them, anonymous and unremarkable. She wouldn't find him out here.  
But she found everyone else, said an annoying voice in the back of his mind.  
She won't find me. I just get on the beltway to Narita, and hop a plane to one of the other islands. Or I can just skip to the States. Kodachi's arms don't reach that far.  
Had be bothered to think about it, Kazuo would have been disgusted at this sudden lack of courage and honor. On the other hand, discretion was the better part of valor. All he had to do was blow town. He could never come back, Kodachi would kill him for deserting, but at least he'd have his life and the cash he'd stowed away in a few Swiss banks to live on. Yeah, he could make it work.  
Kazuo glared impatiently at the light, growling at its stubborn refusal to change. What was the holdup?  
Sudden movement in the mirror caught his eye, the icy tip of a knife at his throat before he could even truly register it. Kazuo froze in his seat, hardly daring to breathe as his eyes darted to the mirror. "How did you get in here?" he rasped.  
"The same way you did," came the reply. The blade pressed harder against the skin of his neck, drawing an involuntary gasp before her voice came back. "Drive."  
"But..."  
"Now."  
Kazuo looked out at the stream of cars passing through the intersection, eyes floating over the people lining the sidewalks who waited for their chance to cross. She had to be nuts! The sting of the blade peircing his flesh brought him around, and Kazuo slammed the gas pedal to the floor.  
The Nissan shot off like a rocket, roaring through an open space between the oncoming cars amid a cacophony of screeching tires and crunching metal. He couldn't hear the shouted curses over the roar of his heart and the engine as he steered the car through the slower-moivng traffic.  
"We could've been killed!" he shouted indignantly at the girl behind him.  
"That really doesn't matter to me." Her voice, cold and lifeless, washed against his ear.

"Sir!"  
"What is it, Akira?" Soichiro asked, one hand on the doorknob. Akira came jogging up to him, an excited flush on his face. "Well?"  
"We got her!"  
Soichiro's eyes widened in astonished hope at his partner's statement. It was almost too good to be true.  
"You're kidding!"  
"No, sir! A patrol unit spotted her in the back of a black Nissan headed west on Seventeenth Street. Guy's driving like a bat outta hell, too."  
"Any make on the car?" Soichiro asked, changing course to the garage. Looked like he wouldn't have to bother heading down to the Animal House after all.  
"It's registered to Kazuo," Akira replied, running just behind.  
Soichiro grunted in reply, the news coming as no surprise to him. Why else would their suspect be in the car?  
"How many units are in pursuit?" he asked as they burst through the door that lead to the police garage.  
"So far, four," Akira replied, his voice echiong in the concrete cavern just beneath their hammering footfalls, "with others having been alerted and joining in."  
"I want a chopper in the air as soon as possible," Soichiro snapped, coming to a halt before a white patrol car parked in the shadow of a SWAT van. "I don't care what it takes, we're bringing this bitch in TONIGHT!"

Akane paid no heed to the blaring horns and screaming tires of the other vehicles on the road. Her body moved in time with the swaying of Kazuo's driving, her hand holding the blade rock steady against his neck. She could taste his fear, both from dodging oncoming death on the pavement and from her. She reveled in the sensation, gorged herself on the juices of his terror.  
Exhilaration and anticipation raged in her blood, the knowledge that within Kazuo's head lie the answer she sought tantalizing her. The name of the final villian, the one who orcestrated this dischordant symphony, awaited her.  
But first, she had to take care of some uninvited guests.  
The lights from the police sirens cast rotating hues of red and blue across her back, their screeching howls grating her ears. She had to lose them, and fast. She didn't want Kazuo to die just yet, he had something she needed.  
Akane felt the Crow flying far overhead, gazing down at the sprawling city as it glided on the currents of wind. It's sight became hers, showing the labrynthine streets of Tokyo from on high.  
"Left!" she shouted into his ear.  
"Say what?!"  
"Turn left," she twisted the tip of the knife, drawing forth a short scream from Kazuo, "NOW!"

The Nissan jerked left, cutting through the oncoming lanes and narrowly avoiding collisions with other cars. It raced between the swerving mass of steel, jumping the curb beyond to duck onto a narrow and seldom-used side street. Their pursuers attempted to follow suit, many of them slamming into civillian cars with violent force. The resulting mass of twisted metal blocked off the small alleyway to the other police cruisers behind, leaving them to deal with the injured and angry motorists and pedestrians.

Soichiro loved the thrill of the chase, the way the blood sang with adrenaline as the hunter closed in on the prey never failing to bring all his senses on edge.  
He gripped the wheel in a white-knuckled grasp, recalling his training in the academy to help steady the car around him. The garishly lit city of Tokyo blurred past, the sound of his tires splashing through small deposits of collected rainwater scarecely audible over his own heartbeat. "Dispatch to all units," came the voice over the patrolcar's radio, "suspect vehicle has evaded pursuit, last seen headed south toward Gakkuen Drive."  
He nearly pounded the wheel in frustration, his teeth gnashing against one another. Goddamnit, she would NOT get away from him, not when he was this close.  
"Gakkuen is only a block north of here," Akira said from Soichiro's left, poring over the GPS unit that was mounted in the dashboard. "We can get there in no time, maybe cut her off."  
"What about that chopper?"  
"Sorry, sir, the pilot can't get takeoff clearance. This storm's going to pick up again by midnight, according to the weather service."  
"We only need him for a few damn minutes!" Soichiro railed, slamming the accelerator down to the floor.  
"Sir, we ARE the closest unit. Maybe we can cut her off."  
"I hope so." Soichiro's mind began to race, attempting to isolate just where Kazuo's car had to turn off.  
From Seventeen to Gakkuen, he thought, swerving to avoid rearending a slower-  
moving truck. There's an alleyway that goes straight through, just wide enough for a car that size!  
"I know where they are!"

Kazuo battled to regain control of the car as it carreened through the sidestreet. The front fender scraped against the brick surface of the wall, crushing the headlight with a mettalic scream just before he jerked the wheel the other way. He eased off the gas, the reduction in speed granting him more control of the speeding vehicle.  
"You're slowing down," she hissed into his ear, accenting her words with a tiny twist of the blade. Kazuo obediently brought the car back to speed, roaring the Nissan down toward what he recognized as Gakkuen Drive.  
"I gotta stop!" he exclaimed nervously, emotions winning out against reason.  
"You do, and I push this all the way in," she replied. "Slowly."  
"We were lucky before!"  
"Then we'll just have to be lucky again, Kazuo."  
"You're outta your fucking mind!"  
"Atrocity has that effect on me. Turn left."  
Kazuo braced himself as best he could, trying to ignore the thundering horror that hammered his brain as his hand closed around the emergency brake lever.  
Then end of the alley raced to meet him, headlights passing by the entrance. Cold sweat beaded on his brow, breath coming in shaking gasps into his lungs as he cranked the wheel hard left and yanked up the lever.  
The rear of the car swung outward in a rubber peeling arc, the front spinning around in sympathy. Not daring to even breathe, he released the emergency brake and spun the steering wheel back to the right. A jarring crunch filled the cabin as the car's rear slammed into the side of another, the countersteering maneuvre not enough to stop the spin. Without pause, Kazuo gunned the engine. The Nissan lurched forward obediently, shearing the thin metal of the rear fender and the door of the other car.  
The spinning red and blue lights shot past him, a faint hope blooming in Kazuo's chest. Had things beed different, if this was happening to one of the others, he would have found it funny for a Yakuza to depend on help from a cop.

"THERE SHE IS!" Soichiro shouted as Kazuo's car roared past, one headlight smashed out of the front. His head whipped around to follow it, the split second lapse in concentration causing him to react too late to the sudden hydroplane as the patrolcar hit a deep puddle in the pavement.  
"LOOK OUT!" Akira's scream came too late as the car's right front tire lost contact with the asphalt. It jerked to the right, carreening over the sidewalk as terrified pedestrians scrambled out of its path. Soichiro, forgetting his training, slammed on the brakes.  
While the brakes were not designed to lock up with the amount of pressure suddenly applied, the act cost Soichiro what little traction he had left as he snatched the wheel around. The front corner smacked the wall with a sickening thud, bouncing the car back out onto the pavement before ramming another on the left rear fender. The impact activated the airbags, the inflatable sacs cushioning their heads as both cars skidded to a halt in the middle of the street.

Kazuo kept up the pace, turning where the girl told him to without any further

questions. He had absolutely no doubt that she would carry out her threat to impale his throat completely if he didn't.  
"What do you want?" he asked in a trembling voice. Her only reply was silence, the feel of her breath on his face sending chills through his skin. "What? Is it about money? Is that it? IS IT?!"  
The city had grown darker, streetlamps functioning with far less reliablility than before. The streets were more littered with garbage and jagged potholes, burned out husks of old cars dotting the landscape.  
"Just drive."  
"If that's what this is all about, you didn't have to kill the others!"  
"Just as you didn't have to kill Ranma!"  
Kazuo froze, the road fading from conscious view at the name Ranma. That one word held more emotion in it than anything else he had heard come out of her mouth.  
Ranma Saotome. Kazuo had known who he was, of his dual nature, even before the rape. He had known that Ranma was indeed male, but looking at his female form had all but sent that knowledge out the window.  
I did what I had to do, he thought, I didn't have a choice!  
The presence of the knife at his throat vanished, stemming the tide of his memories. A rush of air filled the car's cabin for a brief second just before he heard the rear door slam shut, the brief wind cooling the sweat on his face. Kazuo looked into the back seat, finding it empty.  
It was his final mistake. Kazuo whipped his head back to the front, the rusted corpse of an old car rushing toward him in the glow of the one remaining headlight. A horrified scream filled his ears, the wailing of the Nissan's tires mingling with his own cries as he brutally twisted the wheel to avoid the inevitable.

============================================= Part Nine =============================================

Akane picked herself up off the pavement, pain throbbing in her joints from her impact with the street. She rose unsteadily, head spinning as the sound of crunching metal filled the air.  
Her eyes beheld the carnage as the car spun into the air as if an angry child had flung it skyward before coming down on its side. Sparks flew in a shower of angry orange lights as the disfigured Nissan slid to a stop some four meters away. One tire still spun lazily on its twisted axle, the engine ticking as the metals inside cooled.  
"He's not dead," she said softly as she limped toward the wreck. With each step, her legs grew more limber as the cartilage and tendons realigned themselves. Her pants had been hopelessly ripped, with the coat faring only slightly better. Patches of white flesh peeked through the rents, almost glowing in the moonlight. Kazuo wasn't dead, but he soon would be.

Kazuo's brain slowly swam up from the blackness, only dimly aware that something bad had happened. He wanted to remain there, the dark was so warm and comfortable like a infintely soft bed.  
As the world returned, a persistent fear began to nibble at the edges of his mind coupled with a faint throbbing in his right leg. Seconds passed, the pain becoming more intense before snapping him completely awake.  
"Oh... shit..." Gotta get out! his brain screamed. Get away! Get out!  
No. I'm too tired.  
Damnit, man, MOVE!  
Kazuo grudgingly obeyed, his consciousness too foggy to recognize the pain for what it was. His leg felt odd, somehow, refusing to move as he scrambled toward the shard-lined space above him. The pale glow of moonlight glinted faintly off the glass, cool air slapping his face as he slithered out into the night. He was dimly aware of tumbling down before a lance of white-hot pain shot through him.  
"AHH, FUCK!" he howled as he leaned back against the car's underside. Searing fire greeted his back, causing him to lurch forward and draw more torture from his leg. Propping himself up on his arms, the fog now completely burned away, Kasuo inspected his leg. The limb was bent at an unnatural angle, pearl-white bone peeking through the blood-soaked material of his pants.  
Broken. His fucking leg was broken, and he was in the middle of nowhere, and...  
Footsteps sounded from his right, and the picture completed itself. The girl appeared before him, clothes nearly shredded yet otherwise unhurt. Her eyes bored into his, the anguish in their depths seeming to drown out his own suffering. Icy terror seized his heart, freezing the blood in his veins.  
"I want to ask you something, Kazuo."  
"Wh... what?"  
"Why?"  
"Huh?"  
"Why did you do it? Why did you rape Ranma?"  
Kazuo's brain nearly stopped functioning as the realization set in. No, this wasn't her, it couldn't be. This was NOT Akane Tendo!  
"G... go... fuck yourself... you dried up bitch."  
"Fine. We'll do this the hard way," her voice said just before the hand clamped over his face.

Darkness, darkness so deep that light was less than nothing. Akane saw the form before her, back turned, melded to the shadows as if it were an extension of their will or theirs of it. Haunting familiarity oozed over her, the feeling that she should know this person slapping her in the face.  
"You want me to what?"  
"You heard me."  
The voice, oh, God, that voice! No no no NO! "Why should I do it?"  
"Because I'm paying you quite handsomely for the service, peasant!"  
No, please. God, Jesus, Buddha, Amaterasu, please!  
"You do realize..."  
"I shall take care of any interferences!" The form turned, and Akane saw those terrible violet eyes, raven's wing hair. It was her, oh, Lord, no, it was HER!  
"How much?"  
"Five million on completion with two and a half up front. Does that sate your greed, worm?"  
"You're sure there won't be any problems?"  
"You have the word of the Black Rose herself."

Akane didn't realize she was screaming, her tortured wail echoing off the buildings in a symphony of chaos. Denial and bitter truth fought an escalating war in her mind as her fist pounded the red-hot chassis of the car. Flesh seared and cut, healing only to be rent again by her maddened strikes. Her fist lashed out one last time, aluminum caving under the force with acrid petrol gushing forth in a torrent.  
Never, never in Akane's wildest nightmares would she have thought something like this possible. Kodachi Kuno was the one, the architect of this endless nightmare. She had Ranma murdered, had him poisoned so those worthless sacks of shit could have their way with the helpless man-turned-woman. Then, after it had ended, she had been the one to end his suffering. But WHY?!  
The storm abated, the stench of gasoline hanging in the air. Her glare turned to the cowering form of the man before her, the last of Ranma's rapists, but not the last of his killers. Hatred welled up within, obliterating all humanity as she produced the lighter. His eyes widened with dawning horror as he beheld the small rectangle and the fate that he knew was imminent.  
She was too choked with rage to speak, merely turning away and walking into the darkness. Akane took three steps before flipping the Zippo's lid open. Another before she spun the wheel, sparking the flint and igniting the wick.  
She didn't spare a look back before she tossed it over her shoulder. Akane didn't need eyes, hers or the Crow's, to see it spin end over end, the flame still burning bright as it neared Kazuo's gasoline-soaked clothes.  
The wave of heat slammed into her back as the roar of flaming chemicals and the stink of roasting flesh filled the air around her. The street glowed as if lit by an enormous lantern as Kazuo's funeral pyre blazed, spilling black smoke into the night. Akane merely kept walking as the Crow alighted on her shoulder with a soft caw and a flutter of obsidian wings.

Kodachi Kuno. Akane couldn't believe it. No way, it couldn't have been her.  
[It was,] said the Crow. [She was the one who did this to you.]  
"No." The darkened interior of the Tendo Dojo swallowed her whole, the decrepit structure somehow more empty than ever. Kodachi had been, well, not a friend, but a part of the whole nonetheless. She had been part of what had made her life in Nerima.  
She had also destroyed that life, and who knew how many others.  
Akane needed time to think, to put her thoughts back in order.  
[Waste no time, Akane,] the Crow warned. [You must return soon.]

So, she had been right. Kodachi glared hatefully at the dojo, her thumb lightly caressing the small button on the detonator. Whoever this charlatan was, she had chosen this place to roost.  
She had also underestimated the Black Rose's intellect. A mistake which would cost the little harlot her life.  
Kodachi considered depressing the switch, thinking better of it. She wanted to savor this moment, to make it last. Surely it was not Akane, it couldn't be.  
But last time, it had been all too quick. Even when that bungler had finally found her, delicious as that irony had been, it had been over too soon. Even if this was not Akane Tendo all over again, at least Kodachi would take the time to enjoy it.

Ryo awoke with a start to the sound of footsteps beside him, a momentary sense of vertigo claiming him before his body righted itself. He rose to his knees, eyes searching the darkness for the one he knew to be in front of him.  
"I was wondering when you'd show up."  
"Ryo," came Akane's voice from the shadows, "what are you doing here?"  
"I want answers." He would not be dissuaded, not now. He had come this far.  
"Go away, Ryo." Akane's voice was choked with grief and despair, tinged with confusion. Ryo felt a pang in his heart, and the strange need to comfort the girl that nearly overpowered his reason. Why should he feel that way?  
"No, Akane."  
"Ryo..."  
"I know, Akane," he went on, coming to his feet. "This was your house." Silence was his only reply. "You lived here, with Nabiki and Kasumi. And Ranma." He felt the tension in the room tighten to nearly the breaking point, Akane's form becoming more and more evident in the gloom. "You were..."  
"Shut up, Ryo..."  
"...engaged to Ranma. You loved him. You..."  
"SHUT UP!" The attack came without warning, a palm strike that sent Ryo flying against the wall. The plaster, softened by years of moisture and neglect, easily caved beneath his body. Stars danced in his vision for a moment as he fought to bring air back into his lungs.  
Hurt, both physically and emotionally, Ryo Suzaku stared at Akane. Her face was obscured, but he still felt the pain coming from her.  
Fine! his mind shouted. Let her be that way! What do I care?  
"Awright, you sexless, uncute GORILLA!" he screamed. "You wanna go it alone, that's okay with me!" The irrational anger still burning inside, Ryo stormed out of the room. Only when he had stepped out into the night air did he wonder just where those words had come from.

Akane watched Ryo leave, her heart wrenching with the sound of each receeding footfall. His voice, his words, he really was Ranma. She wanted desperately to call out to him, to take him into her arms and never let go, to say she was sorry for so many things...  
And she couldn't. Ryo had Ranma's soul, but he wasn't Ranma. Not really. Akane sank to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably from the agony of her heart and soul. Why did life and death have to be so damn unfair?!

"Someone's leaving."  
Those words caused Kodachi's head to snap up, her finger paused over the button. Had she waited too long? Was the slut leaving again so soon?  
"Is it her?"  
"No, mistress. It is a man."  
That's odd. Why would a man be there with that impostor? A lover, perhaps?  
"Show me." The partition glowed a faint green, an image forming from the car's lowlight scanners. In the emerald picture, she saw a young boy leaving the old dojo in a huff, hands stuffed in the pockets of his windbreaker.  
Kodachi found herself staring after him, a strange sensation in her heart. The warmth spread throughout her chest, reaching her groin and her mind simultaneously. Something about that boy seemed strangely familiar. Probably nothing, but still it couldn't hurt to check.  
"Face. Magnify and enhance." The computer obediently did as instructed, snapping a still shot of the boy's face and enhancing it in living color.  
"Dear gods..." The face was strikingly similar, but those eyes! Infinite blue orbs that instantly enraptured her, drew her into their depths like a moth to the flame. It couldn't be, just couldn't. Could it?  
Of course! The worn clutch of Kodachi's mind, scarecely held in place for so many years, finally slipped once again.  
That's how the witch Tendo hid him from me! She had stolen his soul, damn her, and hidden it years later in the body of this boy!  
And it hadn't just been Akane. It had been that bothersome Nabiki, and the loathesome Ukyo whom had been the first to taste the wrath of the Black Rose. They had ALL conspired to hide his noble soul from her! And now she had found him again. Their failure was at last complete.  
"Bring him! Alive!"  
"Yes, mistress!"

Ryo stalked through the night shrouded Nerima Ward, anxious to be home again. He had wasted his time, his efforts, in trying to get answers from that woman! All that work for nothing! All just to have her hit him!  
But why did it feel so normal? And why did he feel so guilty about leaving her?  
His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of running feet coming from behind. Ryo froze for a second, turning to see two patches of shadow bearing down on him. They were coming fast, REALLY fast!  
Without a second thought, Ryo turned to run himself. His legs beat at the splintered concrete, muscles expanding and contracting ferociously as he attempted to out-pace his pursuers.  
Ryo was rewarded by the sound of their steps receeding, thankful for his natural ability as a runner. He didn't know who they were or what they wanted, and he had no intention of finding out...  
A burst of pain exploded in his skull a millisecond after the impact landed in his back. Ryo's legs turned to jelly, refusing to move as he fell helplessly forward to smack his head on the unyeilding surface of the sidewalk. He dimly registered two pairs of hands grabbing him roughly, hauling him upright and carrying him back the way he had come.  
Consciousness faded and refocused as they brought him before one of the most hauntingly beautiful women he had ever seen. Her violet eyes filled his vision, that melodic voice drowning out the roaring in his skull.

Kodachi took the boy into her arms, knowing for certain that this was the one. His eyes appeared glazed, likely from the stun charge used to stop his retreat. Why would he have run? Unless... unless he did not know her!  
It shouldn't be so easy, she mentally cursed. Naturally, they would have planned for something like this!  
No matter, I still have my ways.  
Kodachi gently hauled him into the car, her two lackeys sliding into the front. The engine keyed over with a near silent hum, the driver dropping the transmission into gear to pull out into the street.  
Kodachi cast one final glare at the Tendo Dojo before depressing the button.

AKANE!  
She looked up with a start at the mental scream, the tears momentarily halted. That voice, it had sounded like Ranma's!  
AKANE! HELP ME!  
The world turned gray, the edges of her vision distorted as if she were looking through a fish-eye lens. She saw the outside in perfect clarity, heart frozen at the sight of the two oafish men holding Ryo by each arm. The image refocused, zeroing in on...  
"KODACHI!" Rage melted her fear as Akane rushed to the window in time to see a black car race off into the night. She had been there! She had been watching the whole

time, damn her! And now she would...  
The universe vanished in a roar, an almost solid mass of sound and heat ramming into her with savage force. Akane was dimly aware of flames licking at her body, of falling toward the ground amidst a glow bright as the birth of a star, and then cold blackness enveloped her.

Akane didn't want to wake up. The cold sapped her strength, her vitality, leaving her wasted and spent. She just wanted to sleep, sleep forever in the cool embryonic emrbace of this strange place.  
[Akane.]  
Leave me.  
[Open your eyes, Akane.]  
Don't wanna.  
[Open them!]  
The lights danced above, refracted a billion times on the rippling sky miles above the darkness. Wow, they were really pretty.  
[Now rise.]  
The Crow called. The Crow commanded, and she obeyed. With a push against the soft dirt, Akane soared toward the lights. Cold air slapped her face with a fierce blow, sending a chill down her spine and realigning her thoughts.  
She gazed at the brightness of what had once been her home. The Tendo Dojo, the center of her life, was now engulfed in flames that reached for the heavens with flickering hands.  
Akane pulled herself free from the koi pond, basking for a moment in the glorious heat of the fire. The explosion must have thrown her clear and into the brackish depths of the ornamental pond. She felt her hair quickly growing back to replace what had been burned off, skin melting back into its original shape.  
As she stared transixed at the flames, Akane felt something release in her heart. The dojo, the final remnant of her old life, was destroyed and with its demise came freedom. No longer was she bound to her past. No more would the memories plague her every thought.  
No past.  
No future.  
Only the moment.  
Now Akane truly knew what it meant to be a Crow.  
With a savage grin splitting her lips, Akane Tendo leapt into the night. This would end. Now.

Soichiro Otnonashi glared around at the jumble of mangled cars, grumbling angrily to himself. How? How had that little bitch gotten away from him? He had been so close, and she had slipped between his fingers with the last of them, Kazuo Mizaki.  
The rotating crimson lights of the ambulances washed over all present as medics buzzed around the wreckage like white-clad worker bees. Thankfully, there were no serious injuries so far. At least there was one thing to be grateful for in all this.  
"The chief is not going to like this," Akira said.  
"Tell me something useful, why don't you?" There were so many unanswered questions, and their stubborn refusal to surrender their secrets was beginning to drive him mad.  
"You know, he's probably dead already," Akira said.  
"Yeah. But she's not done yet." Where to next?  
"You do realize that they were under the employ of the Kabudosai?"  
"Yeah, the Nerima Yakuza cell. What's your point?"  
"I've heard rumors that they answred directly to the oyabun himself, or should I say HERself. Kodachi Kuno."  
The answer came, shocking in its simplicity and obviousness. Soichiro resisted the urge to slap his forehead as he grabbed Akira by the elbow.  
"That's it!"  
"Sir?"  
"The pattern! First the thugs, then the big cheese! She's going after Kodachi!" Ignoring Akira's protests, Soichiro forcibly dragged him to a waiting patrolcar. Its lightbar flashed circulating patterns of red and blue hues across his body.  
He paid no heed to the shouted negatives from the black-suited patrolman as he started the engine and sent the car roaring into the night.

It's been a long time, Akane thought as she vaulted clear of the Kuno mansion's outer wall. The place hasn't changed much.  
The exterior was much the same as she remembered it, a melding of Japanese and European architecture which reflected the inhabitant's strange tastes. Security lights glowed between the grove of small trees leading up to the entrance, casting thin shadows across the path.  
Despite the light, however, House Kuno seemed to loom in darkness. An aura of pure, undiluted evil permeated the air Akane breathed. It seeped into her lungs, leaving a foul taste in her mouth and throat as she silently approached the doors.  
How could she have been so blind? How could she have not seen this coming?  
How could anyone have?  
But that didn't matter any more. The past was gone, a thing so far distant that it was little more than a speck. All that mattered was the here and now. She would kill Kodachi, visit on her the agony Akane herself had experienced and a hundred times more.  
The doors flew open with the force of a small bomb, expensive imported wood splintering to litter the cold stone floor beyond. Akane strode forward, the Crow on her shoulder as her boots crunched over shattered wood.  
The inside was far different than she remembered, lit with an almost celestial glow that washed over the polished white columns that stretched from floor to ceiling. Evil that lurked in the light, how ironic. She would not be stopped...  
Akane felt the presence seconds before it lunged from a hidden niche, a maddened roar splitting the silence like an executioner's axe. She whirled, Yamato's sword at the ready and felt the her anger dissolve into fear.

The cold, dark night, silent as death, walking alone by the koi pond. Ranma, why? Why did you have to die this way? Emptiness that consumed all thought, numbed the warning of approaching danger.  
Then the sound, rustling of fabric and bush, the sight of the black shape bearing down on her, blade glinting cruelly in the pale moonlight.  
Agony exploding throughout her body, then nothing at all. The world was fading, she was dying, and above her stood the cloaked man, the Nerima Slasher...

There was no time for thought, the sword already coming down in its killing arc. Akane couldn't defend, merely vaulting backward as his blade split the floor.  
It. Was. HIM! The cloaked man who had taken her life, cleaved her in two like a block of wood. He stood before her, a massive shape hidden beneath the folds of a midnight cloak. Hate blossomed anew in her breast, her own sword coming to bear. Her own killer or not, this creature was merely a distraction. Best to deal with it quickly and get on with the real mission.  
An inhuman roar burst from her throat as she lunged, blade whistling as it sliced the air. Steel rang against steel as he brought his own sword up in a parry, stepping lightly backward to set up a counterstrike.  
Akane would have none of it. Running on rage-fueled adrenaline, she kept up the attack. Keep him off balance, don't let him gain ground to attack again. Their blades whispered over each other, the man's defense gaining momentum and finesse.  
If nothing else, he was skilled, but where had she seen that style before?  
Summoning all her will, Akane leapt over his thrust, slashing downward at the apogee of her somersault. He anticipated the move, however, dodging so that only his cowl was slashed instead of his neck.  
Akane turned, preparing another assault when she caught sight of the grotesquely scarred flesh of his bald head. And then he turned...  
"Oh, no..." This couldn't be! No! "K... Kuno?"  
His face was twisted and ruined, scars criss-crossing the flesh like a living roadmap. There were no lips, only a gaping hole that showed misshapen teeth. His eyes were lidless, bloodshot and bulging from their sockets and shining with the light of a lunatic. But it was still him.  
"Kuno... why?" Her only answer was another enraged yell, and Akane realized that the man she knew had left that shell a long time ago. All that remained was a monster cloaked in a twisted mockery of creation.  
His swing went wild, Akane's own blade penetrating deep into the shrouded chest. Warm blood gushed from the wound, coating her hands with its sticky substance as a gurgling sound came from his throat. Tears straining to escape, Akane withdrew the blade and allowed him to fall.  
Tatewaki Kuno, or what was left of him, hit the floor with a groan. His cooling body twisted spasmodically as life fled his mortal shell. Profound silence returned, leaving Akane shaking in its wake.  
"Kuno-sempai," she said in a choked whisper. "Who did this to you?"  
Kodachi.

Reality warped and twisted as each new sensation of maddening torment ripped through Tatewaki's brain. Locked away in the tiny room, scarecely enough space to move, alone, afraid as each new toxin entered his body and he clawed at the walls, and then at his own flesh as sanity crumbled to ash beneath the dessicating flames of madness...

Another life turned to shit by her. Another life twisted to her own demented ends, and then discarded like so much waste. Another soul to avenge. Kuno hadn't been in control. Kodachi had been pulling his strings, sending his delicate grasp on reality spiralling into the void.  
"Rest easy, Tatewaki-san," she said. "This will be all right again, I promise you."

"Come on, damnit! Faster!"  
"Sir," Akira said in his irritatingly calm tone, "screaming at the car won't make it go any faster."  
Soichiro didn't reply, mentally urging more speed from the already overworked engine. She was going after Kodachi next, likely any moment now, and he would be ready.  
It was not as if he particularly cared whether the Yak lived or died. He had heard stories about how she dealt with failure and competition that had curled his hair. If anything, her death would be a boon to Japan.  
But this girl, the one pretending to be Akane Tendo, was still a murderer. As such, she had to face justice. And as an officer of the law, it was his job to bring her in. It was that simple.  
Or was it? Was his obsession tied to something more? Why was she taking the guise of a girl who had been a victim in his first homicide investigation? What was the meaning of it all?  
Enough of the self-analyzing, he admonished himself. Just get there and place her under arrest. THEN you can pick apart what's driving you.

Akane Tendo walked in silence through the softly lit halls of the Kuno estate, an eerie calm having descended over her. There were no tears left to shed, no room remaining for self-pity. The flames of her anger burned cold as an arctic wind, coating her raw nerves in a sheet of soothing ice.  
Kuno's blood had stopped dripping onto the pearlescent floor, the once life-giving fluid having congealed and crusted on the steel. Akane pushed thoughts of him out of her mind, thoughts of all things removed until only one remained.  
Kodachi Kuno.  
She focused on it, allowing it to expand and fill her consciousness. This was why she was here. This was why the Crow had carried her back. This was her ultimate purpose on the mortal coil.  
No questions lurked as to why, no lingering doubts left to cloud her focus. This must be done. There was no other way.  
[Good, Akane,] the Crow said as it landed back on her shoulder. [You finally see.]  
"How far?"  
[Just beyond those doors.] The ornate oak doors stretched nearly to the ceiling, terminating above in a peaked arch. Akane knew that beyond lay the Kuno family's garden. A place of beauty the last she saw of it. Now it would become a battlefield. The delicate flowers would be witness to bloodshed. It seemed almost sacrilige for death to wage war in a place of life, but that was the way of things.

Kodachi gazed over at Ranma, or rather the boy whose body his soul inhabited. He sat across from her, a hakama of the finest ornate silk adorning his muscular frame. While dressing him, Kodachi had gasped at the tone of his skin, sweet longing aching in her heart. It had taken an enormous effort of will to keep from taking him there and then.  
But she had prevailed. Her fondest desire, the joining of her heart to his, would at last be fulfilled. The joining of their bodies could wait, if only for a short while longer.  
Kodachi herself was clad in a kimono of equal finery, face painted white as the purest porcelian. She wore an expression of demure submission, completely unsuited to her nature. A face she had worn for no other, a face she would wear only for Ranma-  
sama.  
She looked deep into those beautiful eyes, clouded slightly from the drug she had to inject into his bloodstream. She may not have had any magic, but her knowledge of botany could doubtless erase what the sorceress Akane and her ilk had done.  
With a delicate hand, she reached down for her wedding toast, a tiny cup filled with sake, and brought it to her lips. The liquid steamed from the fragile cup, tantalizing her nostrils with its odor. She had sent her men away, even her own personal security force, for this one night. Kodachi wanted absolutely no interruptions.  
The sound of splintering wood reached her ears, halting her limbs cold. Who... DARED to interrupt her!

Akane stalked forward through the trees, blade held at the ready. Even through the ice, she felt eager to finally face Kodachi, to finally bring justice to all those whom she had hurt and killed.  
She came to a clearing, a flash of anger rising up at the sight. On a raised platform, closed on three sides by walls of rice paper, Kodachi knelt in a kimono more elegant than any Akane had ever seen. And across from her...  
"What have you done with Ryo?" Akane recognized the outfits and settings for a traditional Shinto wedding, and the sight sickened her.  
"How did you survive?" Kodachi's voice hadn't changed a bit, menace lurking beneath the velvet-smooth tones.  
"I've been to hell, and come back," Akane replied, bringing the bloodstained sword to a ready position. "A hell YOU sent me to!"  
"So." Kodachi slowly rose, placing each hand in an opposite sleeve. "You truly believe you are that whore, Akane Tendo?"  
"I AM Akane Tendo!" The ice began to melt, the almost erotic rush of anger surging through her. "And I am not a WHORE!"  
Akane stood under Kodachi's laser-intense gaze, giving not an inch. Whether that lunatic beleived her to be Akane or not was unimportant. She would learn the truth.  
"Nor are you Akane," Kodachi said with finality.  
"Let Ryo go, damn you!" Whatever else, Akane would not allow Ryo to come to harm.  
"If you truly were Akane, then you would know the truth about this boy," Kodachi said smugly.  
"That he's really Ranma Saotome reborn?" Akane saw Kodachi's painted face grow several shades paler, eyes widening in revelation and horror. Now Kodachi recognized her for who she was. Good.  
"This is... impossible!"  
"I've done the impossible. And now, you're gonna face the inevitable!"

Soichiro was thrown forward from the force of the sudden decelleration, seatbelt cutting into his skin. A blast of tunder from above shook the car's frame, heralding the coming of another storm, one with unrelenting fury.  
He scrambled out of the car, charging up to the sealed gates of the Kuno mansion. Rain began to fall, small drops at first then increasingly fat ones that spattered on the pavement to form pools and flow to the drains that led to the sewers.  
"POLICE!" he shouted into the video monitor near the door. "OPEN UP!" Nothing. The screen remained blank, not even the hiss of static coming over the speaker.  
Thunder roared again, shattering the heavens as lightning rent the night. For a brief instant, and later he would say it was a case of nerves, Soichiro could have sworn he saw a gathering of crows far above. What were those called?  
Murders. A murder of crows.  
Nobody was home. No, Kodachi was here, she had to be. It was only fitting. In desperation, Soichiro grabbed hold of one of the cast-iron hinges bolted into the edges of the doors.  
"SIR!" called a disturbed Akira. "What are you doing?"  
"Just shut up and climb!"  
"Soichiro, we don't even have a warrant!"  
"Screw paperwork! We have to put a stop to this!" Without waiting for a reply, Soichiro made his climb.

"You... cannot be!"  
"You wanna bet, bitch?" Akane reveled in Kodachi's dawning realization, gorging herself on the sweet nectar of the other's fear. Now, they would finish it. Once and for all.  
Fear vanished from Kodachi's face, replaced with hideous rage that changed her face into a pale mask of death. Akane did not back down, and was not worried. So what if Kodachi's death was without terror? Just so long as it was done.  
"I should have known." The words seared Akane's ears like hot branding irons. "Even in death, you cannot admit the truth."  
"What truth?"  
"That you could NEVER measure up to Kodachi Kuno!"  
Akane did not suppress the rage, the hate. Rather, she let it enter her blood like a welcome companion. Her senses grew acute beyond mortal humans, sanguine passion beating in her heart. She could feel the Crow, perched in a tree above and behind her, watching with its impassive eyes as the two combatants squared off against each other.  
The first attack came, Kodachi's left hand suddenly appearing and sending out her trademarked ribbon. Akane almost laughed at the pathetic attempt, leaping clear as the fabric rent the air beneath her feet.  
A sadistic grin split Kodachi's face just as Akane felt the ribbon entwine her legs. A gasp of momentary surprise turned into a screech of agony as tendrils of electricity surged through her body.  
The lightning vanished as her head cracked against the ground below, paralysis robbing her limbs of strength. Akane felt her nerves unscramble themselves, sensation returning far too slow. "You see," Kodachi's leering face said as it appeared above her. "I did not let my talents languish over the past two decades."  
Too slow. Come on, healing bit, WORK! She felt the power build within her, a thing she had never before consciously experienced, yet knew all to well.  
"I have learned a vast array of new techniques with which I have crushed countless enemies!"  
Almost there... "I wonder," Kodachi mused as those terrible eyes drilled relentlessly into Akane's, "if your screams will sound as pretty as Ukyo's did. Or Nabiki's, for that matter, hm?"  
Not much longer...  
"You know, your sister lasted far longer, which was a surprise. While Ukyo may have been physically heartier, Nabiki's mind proved far more challenging. But you should have been there the first time she called me 'Mistress'."  
The power boiled to its peak, an emerald glow lighting Kodachi's face in a sickly pallor. Then the release, with words she never once thought she'd hear herself say.  
"SHI SHI HOKODAN!"  
The blast of anguish-charged energy rammed into Kodachi with the force of a freight train, lifting her skyward like a rocket.  
Akane lay on the cool, damp earth for a moment, staring up at the black sky above, the sounds of thunder and rain slamming into the transparent roof conspiring to lull her to sleep.  
Drained, Akane still rose. Kodachi was not done yet, and neither was she. Akane would make Kodachi see the truth, no matter what it took.

Soichiro came to a skidding halt, the sound of an explosion ripping through the air. In the distance, near the rear of the expansive mansion, a jade glow lit the night before fading into darkness again.  
"What..." he began, nearly out of breath, "the hell was that?!"  
"Perhaps we should call for backup, sir?!" Akira shouted over the rain, equally as soaked through.  
"No time!" Soichiro continued his headlong charge, having long since spotted the ruined doors ahead. Wondering if this really was such a good idea, he closed the distance to the beacon of light.

Kodachi slowly fought her way back to her feet, pain throbbing across every neural pathway. She could feel the climate controlled air against bare and bruised skin in several places, the slut's spell having ruined her ceremonial kimono.  
No. The Black Rose was not so easily defeated. Akane, or her ghost, had again underestimated her resourcefulness. As her vision cleared, her hand instinctively found the bracelet hidden by her remaining sleeve. The metal was warm from her own body, the tiny raised nub easily found by her questing fingers.  
Time to die, Akane Tendo. Again.

Akane plucked the sword from where it had fallen, berating herself for allowing Kodachi to catch her by surprise. Of course she would have kept up her training! She probably had a whole slew of new tricks up her sleeves.  
Oiled servos whirred behind her, stopping with soft clicks. The Crow's eyes became hers, and she saw the polished metal objects arise from the flora around her. Oh, DAMN!  
Akane barely managed to dodge as stacatto gunfire perforated the air where she had once stood. More guns joined in, adding to the rapid-fire cadence as projectiles of hot brass sang past her.  
A slew of new tricks, indeed!  
Bullets screamed past, a few leaving burning trails of pain across her body. Ryo! What about Ryo! Akane cast a glance backward, finding that a partition of clear material had lowered over the dais on which he knelt, still as stone. At least he was safe, now to take care of these blasted guns!  
She did not fear the metal-belching weapons, but they would make the fight more difficult. Her sword flashed, an auto-cannon falling to the ground with a shower of sparks. One down, only three more to go.  
Akane moved with the grace of a bird in flight, rolling clear of each round as the weapons whirled to train on her. If she could keep them from locking on...  
Another swing, and another gun destroyed with the final two following soon after. Akane stood amidst the ruined machines, cordite burning her eyes and nose, and nearly cackled with truimph. Nohting would stop her! Nothing!  
She didn't hear the other machines coming to life, small slits opening in the ground to reveal four-barreled launchers. A puff of compressed air released was her only warning, and it came too late.  
Akane screamed as she felt the steel cords wrap around her arms, her legs, her waist, holding her fast. She strained against the metal bonds, fighting for release. They held strong, however, not allowing an inch.  
"I told you!" Akane's head whipped around to where Kodachi stood, the barrier before Ryo fading into thin air. She watched in horror as the other woman took his hand, leading him to his feet and out onto the grass. "I have learned much in the time we have been apart!"  
Akane chanced a look into those violet eyes and saw nothing resembling humanity, compassion, or even love. Just an obsession, twisted and evil. Madness that had rotted Kodachi's soul.  
"You haven't learned a damn thing," Akane snarled as Kodachi came closer. "You can't fight with honor. All you can do is CHEAT!"  
"Honor! Hah!" Kodachi made a disgusted sound in her throat, as if the thought of fair contest was repulsive. "Don't preach to ME about honor! YOU were the one who stole my darling Ranma-sama from me!"  
"HE WAS NEVER YOURS TO START WITH!"  
"He was ALWAYS mine!" Kodachi screamed, accenting the final word with a viscious slap that drew blood from Akane's cheek. "That first night, when he stopped my fall, we both knew it! Your trickery merely kept him from seeing the truth! You, and that red-haired WHORE!"  
"You just don't get it, do you?"  
"Get what? That I am your obvious superior? That all your foul machinations have failed due to my perseverance?"  
"That the red-haired girl... was Ranma. You were just too STUPID to see!"  
"LIAR!" A brutal blow landed in Akane's stomach, the impact stealing her breath for a moment. "BLASPHEMER!" Another, to the temple, starring her vision. "DEFILER!"  
"I pity you, Kodachi."  
"SPARE ME YOUR WORTHLESS PITY!"  
Akane felt Kodachi's hatred bake her skin even as the effects of her strikes faded. How? she asked herself. How could anyone be so delusional? So insane?  
So very, very evil?  
Kodachi stepped back, an aura of purple energy surrounding her. She cupped her hands forward, a tiny sphere forming in the space between her palms.  
"You say I cannot fight?" she mocked as the orb grew larger. "You say I have not mastered the art?" The power began to tingle against Akane's skin, raising the fine hairs on her neck and arms. "I shall show you who has truly become the master!  
"DARK CANNON!"  
The blast tore into Akane's abdomen, fiery agony consuming all her senses as it seared her flesh. In desperation, she gathered all her will into the center of herself, into a place where the pain could not reach. This would not kill her. She would not be defeated.  
"DARK CANNON!"  
Another round of searing torture, this one far greater than the last. Akane repeated her mantra over and over; she would not be beaten. Even as the pain grew to heights she never dreamed possible, she held her ground.  
"DARK CANNON!"  
The walls she had hastily erected gave way, and her soul was washed away on a raging flood of twisting and burning pain.

Soichiro rose to his feet, still fighting to keep his gag reflex from emptying the contents of his stomach. He allowed his eyes to roam as he caught his breath, travel everywhere but to that distorted creature on the floor.  
Though he hadn't known at the time, he had found the real Nerima Slasher.  
"Sir?"  
"I'm okay," he replied in a voice that sounded far more steady than he was. "Let's go."  
"And him?"  
"Leave him. The meat wagon'll take care of it." And I pity those poor fools when they see him...

Kodachi stood over Akane's smoldering body, howling in mad triumph.  
"Coming for me, indeed! The only thing you came for was your death!" A snippet of the legend returned to her, that those the Crow returned could not be stopped. That they would hunt their prey forever until the chase was done.  
Well, Akane Tendo's hunt certainly was over, at any rate.  
"Come, my darling," she said, turning back to the dais. "We have unfinished business to attend to." If Akane was still alive, then she would witness her ultimate failure before taking her place in the chamber where the others had seen their final days. Kodachi turned one final time, to see her Ranma staring down at her with an odd look on his face. "Ranma-sama?"

Akane.  
Oh, God, it HURTS!  
AKANE!  
Ranma?  
Slowly, with pain still firing across her neural paths, Akane opened her eyes.  
Akane! C'mon, Akane, get up!  
She raised her head, and blinked in confusion. Ryo stood before her, yet it was not Ryo. For a moment, he vanished, replaced by a face she had ached so long to see.  
"R... Ranma..."  
Ya gotta get up, Akane.  
"I'm... trying."  
"C'mon! You're tougher than this! Ya can't quit! Yer too damn STUBBORN ta quit on me!  
"Please..."  
If ya give up now, we ain't gonna be together! I love ya too much to be without ya!  
"Ranma!" Renewed strength flowed though her, carrying a dizzying rush that set her heat beating frantically. This was not the familiar rage, nor the cold ice. This was the other side of the power, the strongest side.  
The power of love.  
Now get off that ground, an' show this bitch what it means to screw around with people's lives!  
Akane rose, the steel cables around her restricting her movement, but she did not care. She could, WOULD, face anything to hear him say those words to her again. To hear them for eternity.  
"NO! THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE!" Akane ignored Kodachi's screams as the cables strained and snapped clear of their moorings.  
"Round TWO, bitch!"  
Akane was riding higher than she ever had before, righteous anger and soothing love coming together to grant her a strength she never knew could exist. Blow after blow landed on Kodachi, the latter pushed back by the sheer amount of force in Akane's attack. No martial arts technique could grant this kind of power, a strength that came only from on high.  
Bones cracked and shattered under Akane's punches and kicks, techniques that rivalled Ranma's best snapping off with mechanical precision. Finally, Akane relented, allowing Kodachi's broken form to crumple to the dirt.  
Her chest rose and fell unsteadily, a deep gurgle deep within betraying her weakness. Kodachi Kuno was broken, but not defeated. Not yet. There was one final thing to do.

Kodachi swam through the infinte darkness toward the light that emanated from Ranma, a glow that called to her like a beacon in the night.  
"Ranma-sama!" She fought the liquid black around her, scratching and clawing toward the waiting man before her. "Ranma..."  
He turned toward her, and her heart froze. His body shrank, taking on the dimensions of a woman as the hair melted into a fiery red.  
"Surprise!" She became a man again, then a woman, and horrible revelation shook Kodachi to her soul. Not since that day, perched above the outer wall of Furinkan High, when she saw Ranma give Akane that valentine with his confession of love, had she felt such sharp agony, such twisting insanity in the depths of her mind and heart.  
No! NOOOOOO! She screamed into the darkness as the sound of a thousand crows cried with her.

Kodachi's blood-curdling screams pierced Akane's eardrums, the agony of the truth wrenching the former's soul. For a brief moment, Akane almost felt pity. Almost.  
The sword was in her hands, raised above the somehow-standing Kodachi's head. The words came from deep within her, from a source she could not truly divine.  
"Abashed, the devil stood," she began as she brought the sword to its peak, "AND FELT HOW AWFUL GOODNESS IS!" The blade descended, severing Kodachi's head with a neat cut and a geyser of crimson blood as the body slumped forward.  
Akane stood staring for a moment, then glanced at the blood-soaked blade. She took it in both her hands, breaking it across her knee. The sword snapped easily, its job finished.  
"RANMA!" She ran over toward where she had left him, finding a still-dazed Ryo Suzaku in his place. Hope faded, though a profound sense of relief washed over her. Ryo was okay, which meant Ranma was as well.  
She knelt beside him, hands on his muscular shoulders, and realized what she could not have. Not here, not now. But, he would live on, and one day return to her.  
"Ranma..." So many things needed to be said, all of them clogging her throat as she beheld those wonderful eyes.  
[We must leave now, Akane.]  
"I know, but first I have to do this." She leaned in close to him, lips only inches from his.  
"I love you too, Ranma." Their lips met, parting with a soft smack as she ended their last kiss. "Goodbye."

Soichiro Otonashi stepped into the center of the garden, the sight of the headless corpse clenching his guts. She had been here. "Sir! This one's alive!" Soichiro turned, joining Akira beside the boy in the hakama. That thing probably cost as much as the rent on my apartment, he thought as Akira turned the kid's head this way and that.  
"He's pretty doped up, sir."  
"Damn. He gonna be okay?"  
"I think so, sir, but I can't tell for certain."  
"The... Crow..."  
"Kid?"  
"Akane..." With that, the boy lost consciousness.  
"Akira, get on the horn and get an ambulance here."  
"Yes, sir." Akira stood and ran back to the entrance to the garden, leaving Soichiro alone with a sleeping kid and a dead oyabun.  
His questions were still unanswered, but a strange peace settled over him. Deep inside, on a level where such knowledge is possible, Soichiro knew that, for now, whatever had happened was over.  
Lightning flared, thunder shouting an equal response. Had he looked up, Soichiro Otonashi would have seen a hole in the skylight above.

Akane was cold, colder than she had ever felt before as she stumbled blindly through the alley. Her body was growing numb, her brain only vaguely noting the flow of blood from her myriad wounds. Her eyelids felt heavy as lead, the desire to close them almost too seductive to resist.  
Her legs finally gave out, toppling her into a stack of aluminum trashcans before she hit the cold and wet asphalt. She was weak, weary, tired.  
"Why... aren't I... healing?"  
[You are finished here, Akane,] the Crow replied. Was that approval in its voice? Things were so hard to determine. [You have done well.]  
"No..."  
[You must go now, Akane.]  
"Ranma..." The rain was so cold, like her. So very cold...  
[In time, he will join you.]  
Akane looked up to find the Crow perched directly above her, joined by four others.  
"Who..."  
[You know them, Akane.]  
She gazed up at them, and felt their souls. Daddy! Kasumi! Nabiki! Ukyo!  
[They will carry you back, and you will be with them for eternity.]  
"But..."  
[Come, Akane.]  
Akane Tendo closed her eyes, whispering a silent prayer.  
"Ranma," she said in a weak voice as the cold crept up her spine, "please, live for me. Be happy. I... couldn't face eternity knowing that you... were unhappy.  
"I'll always love you, and I'll wait for you. I'll wait... forever..."

====================================== Part Ten: Epilogue ======================================

The Crow stared down at Akane Tendo's lifeless body, rent by countless wounds and felt her soul within itself. Odd, it should be happy. Ecstatic, even. Instead it was a trifle sad.  
It was that Ranma. His rebirth on this world was still a problem, though one it could not help. The Crow had power, but not enough to change the winds of rebirth.  
Another Crow landed across from it, this one larger half again than itself. The two exchanged messages, and it understood. The larger Crow looked at the others, each carrying the souls of Akane's friends and family, and each one nodded in assent. The big Crow flew off, and the others settled on Akane's body.

Ryo Suzaku walked in the sunshine, allowing the spring warmth to seep into him. He breathed deep the sweet smell of cherry blossoms that rode the currents of wind toward their final destinations to be trampled underfoot by children at play.  
Kyle and he were in different classes, now, yet they were still among the closest of friends. The time they spent together kept Ryo's mind off the one dark spot in his thoughts.  
What happened?  
Whenever he tried to recall those days months ago, he found himself before a giant black void, bereft of information. Even his sketchpad was missing, of all things. Where had it gone?  
He only vaguely recalled waking up in a hospital, groggy from whatever they had pumped into him, and the questions of those two detectives. Looking back, he found he couldn't even recall what they had been asking about.  
Maybe I should stop thinking about it, he said to himself. Maybe I don't want to know what happened...  
"OH!" He stumbled backward, books tumbling out of his hands as he caught himself on the wall alongside the sidewalk. He shook his head, eyes locking on a girl crouched down above the pile of books.  
"I'm sorry," he said, kneeling to help her gather her things.  
"No, it's my fault." She looked up at him, a waterfall of dark hair cascaded down her back, tied into a tail at the bottom with two long locks hanging down before her ears. Expressive brown eyes looked at him, fixed in a face that he could only define as... cute.  
A flash of familiarity passed before his eyes, of white and black shadows on those lovely features, before fading back into nothingness.  
"I... I haven't... seen you here before..." Oh, GREAT opening line!  
"I just transferred here," she replied, a small smile that lit up his heart on her lips.  
"Let me help you with those books," he said in a somewhat steadier voice as he separated her books from his own, placing hers in a neat stack and giving them over.  
"Thanks!" she beamed, and his soul sang.  
"So, uh... My name's Ryo Suzaku."  
"I'm Akane. Akane Saotome."  
"Akane..." Another flash shot through his mind, gone as quickly as it had come. "I'm in junior class E."  
"Hey, me, too! Want me to walk ya to class?"  
"Thanks," she said with a giggle. "I'd like that."

The Crow watched from on high, seeing proven one universal truth as the two walked into the building.  
When the people you love are stolen, the only way to have them live on is to never stop loving them.  
Ryo and Akane vanished into the school.  
Homes burn, and lovers die, but when love is proven real and true, when two people are absolutely meant to be together...  
Nothing, not the gods, nor even death itself, could stand in their way.  
The Crow circled higher, vanishing into the unmarred sky far above. Perhaps this time, they could get it right.

Notes:

First, I want to thank my prereaders in no particular order:  
Grayson Towler Brian Payne Mad Hamlet Latin_D Kyle Emmerson MJ And, last but not least, everyone who reads and enjoys this fic. Or at least reads it. ^_^

For those interested, I compiled a soundtrack to the fic. If you can download and play MP3, the go ahead and go for it.

"They Stood Up for Love" by Live. The album is "The Distance to Here".  
This song, as I saw it, starts at the very end, when the Crow is going up into the sky and Akane is walking into the school with Ryo.

"Living Dead Girl" by White Zombie. Don't know the album.  
This was in the bar scene when Tetsuo blasts Akane with the shotgun.

"The Unforgiven 2" by Metallica. The album is "Re-Load".  
I had this song playing when Akane first returned to the Tendo Dojo. Trust me, it REALLY fit.

"No Leaf Clover" by Metallica. The album is "S&M".  
This was kinda Kodachi's theme song. I played it when I first brought her in.

"The Memory Remains" by Metallica. The album is "Re-Load".  
The last Metallica song, I swear! ^_^ Anyway, I had the final bars of this playing when Akane forces Kodachi to see what she had done.

"Make Me Bad" by Korn. The album is "Issues".  
It goes with the dance hall scene with Ryo and Nanase.

"Burn" by The Cure. It's on the soundtrack to the first Crow movie.  
I had this song going when Akane first came back and relived what had happened to her and Ranma.

"Falling Away From Me" by Korn. The album is "Issues".  
I'm not clear on this song's name, but it's the second song on the "Issues" disc. Anyway, it's the song when Akane meets (and kills) Yoshi in his apartment.

"Bullet With Butterfly Wings" by Smashing Pumpkins. The album is "Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness".  
This was the song in the background when Genki went into Aunt Susie Cho's Tearoom.

"Knock Me Out" By Linda Perry featuring Grace Slick. The album is the soundrack to "The Crow: City of Angels".

The rest of the music can be found on the original score to "The Crow".

Thanks for reading!

Jed


End file.
